


I Walked through Hell to Find Home

by alldaydream



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Magic, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Magical Realism, Mutual Pining, Patrick Brewer will always fall in love with David Rose, Self-Discovery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 68,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26662960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alldaydream/pseuds/alldaydream
Summary: Patrick is wracked with guilt at how he spoke to Rachel last night. She didn’t deserve to have his frustration unleashed on her. He hears the door open and close and is ready to get up and apologize. But before he can do so, a man’s voice pierces through the air.“I know you’re feeling like shit right now, but you need to take your medicine.”Patrick’s eyes snap open and he sits up quickly, groaning again as the world swoops around him. He closes his eyes and cradles his head and the voice chuckles. Patrick feels the bed dip and a warm hand comes to cup behind his neck. Patrick slowly opens his eyes and looks up and sees a man with dark hair and even darker eyebrows smiling down at him.OrPatrick Brewer goes asleep engaged to Rachel and wakes up married to David Rose. He's given a taste of happiness he never knew he could have and does everything he can to chase after it.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 852
Kudos: 759





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This took me soooooooooooooo much longer to write than I originally planned. Started this last December, scheduled to have it posted by March, but then ✨ everything went to shit ✨
> 
> But here it is in it's nearly complete glory. 
> 
> Chapters will be posted as I work through my edits.
> 
> This titles is kind of, sort of inspired by Hadestown? Like the plot of that has nothing to do with this, but I kept listening to Wait for Me on repeat as I was writing this lol
> 
> A note for canon details: I started writing this before the season 6 premiere so some details in the beginning I had to guess, which ended up not being too far off from being canon. So for the sake of my sanity and laziness, I decided not to go back to fix those details to make everything perfectly align. It's really just when the Roses leave Schitt's Creek that's different. 
> 
> And as always, kudos and comments are always welcome!

October 3rd.

Patrick Brewer lets out a rough sigh and stretches his arms upwards, feeling the muscles in his back popping. He’s been staring at his computer screen in his cubicle for the last twenty minutes blankly, counting down the seconds until he can go home for the day. It’s Friday, thank God, so Patrick has the weekend to relax and work off the nasty cold he got from his co-worker Ethan. Until then, work is as uneventful as usual, and he partakes in bland office banter when he has to. His job is unfulfilling and stale. But it’s stable and pays well and will provide a good life.

He’s been feeling the pressure from everyone around him for the last few years to settle down and start a life with Rachel. Rachel who is kind, beautiful and smart, who has been his best friend since they were both sixteen, who has loved him since then.

So he proposed to her two years ago in the park on the swing set where they had their first kiss. His parent’s were ecstatic, excited to officially welcome Rachel into the family as if she hasn’t already been family for so many years.

The original plan was to be married within a few months of him asking, but then Rachel’s dad got into a car accident that left him bedridden for several months, he was offered a new job at a different firm that took some adjusting, and his parent’s house took a lot of damage during a major storm that ended with a large tree branch smashing through part of the roof. The wedding took a back seat in comparison to everything, one big thing after another, but Patrick didn’t seem to mind. In fact, with every new distraction came a wave of relief.

But now that life has finally calmed down around them, the wedding planning has begun again.

Last week she told him she found the dress. Yesterday she told him she found a venue to visit. This morning she told him about the flowers she ordered.

And through it all, Patrick has done his best to smile and pretend like he isn’t grasping for sanity every time marrying Rachel becomes more and more real.

He doesn’t know why he’s feeling the way he is, why he still feels like something just hasn’t clicked into place. Because on paper there is no reason not to marry Rachel. She’s perfect.

But somewhere in between, Patrick is still finding it hard to find his footing.

He was on the brink of leaving everything behind after a nasty fight with Rachel three months after his proposal. He just, he couldn’t do it anymore. He didn’t want to. He felt like he was trapped. But when Rachel called that night from the hospital, sobbing into the phone with terror, he rushed to her side and stayed there. And he’s been there ever since.

Because the fact of the matter is that he won’t be able to find someone better than her. No one can love him like she does. So these pre-wedding jitters will continue to be pushed aside until he walks down the aisle with her. By then, he’ll be okay.

Patrick presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and counts to ten, something he does to keep his panic at bay. He can’t have another breakdown at work, his co-workers will begin to notice. He feels a sneeze coming and he’s too late to stop it, his body wracking with the force of it, his throat sore and tender. With bloodshot eyes he looks at the clock and decides to go home early for the day. It’s only 3:15 which gives him a good three hours before Rachel comes home to decompress and remind himself of all the good things he’ll have once he’s married.

Stability. Comfort. Routine.

He needs a drink.

\\\\\

Patrick hears Rachel’s key through the door, pausing the hockey game on the TV. She shoulders her way in, carrying a brown paper bag in her hands.

“Hey,” she says closing the door with her hip. “Pasta okay for dinner?”

“Sounds good, Rach,” Patrick says from the couch. She goes into the kitchen and Patrick unpauses the game, his eyes on the screen but his mind somewhere else.

_Marry Rachel. She’s good for you. She knows you. Your parents love her. She’s everything you could possibly want. Marry Rachel._

Yes, marry Rachel.

Patrick turns off the TV and walks into the kitchen, opening the fridge for another beer. Rachel is chopping up onions, Patrick walking behind her and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“How are you feeling?” Rachel asks, dumping the onions into a skillet.

“I’m okay,” Patrick says sitting down at the kitchen table. “I think it’s just a cold.”

Rachel turns her head to look at him and gives him a smile. “I’ll make chicken soup for you tomorrow.”

Patrick smiles back and takes a swig from his beer.

“So I called the photographer today during lunch,” Rachel says washing the cutting board. “And we need to tack down a date soon if we want to schedule them. They need a couple of months notice.”

Patrick tenses up and repeats his mantra in his head. _Marry Rachel. She’s good for you. She knows you. Your parents love her. She’s everything you could possibly want. Marry Rachel._

“A date,” Patrick repeats weakly. “Can we talk about this later?”

Rachel stops moving by the sink, her shoulders hunched up to her ears. “Patrick, it’s been two years. It’s later. We need to choose a date.”

“Does it have to be now?” Patrick sighs out.

Rachel turns around and crosses her arms against her chest. “Yes, Patrick. You keep pushing off choosing a date and we need to decide now.”

Patrick feels the frustration inside of him building. “Fine, choose whatever date you want. I trust you.”

“Pick the date myself? Patrick, I have been making decisions about _our_ wedding by myself. Can you at least pretend to be interested?” She asks sharply.

“I am interested,” Patrick snaps back. “I trust whatever you want to do, it’s your wedding-”

“ _Our_ wedding,” she throws back. “It’s _our_ wedding. We need to make decisions _together_ ,” Rachels says tensely, running her hands through her hair. “Why does it feel like you don’t want this?”

“I asked you! I’m the one who proposed!” Patrick says defensively.

“You never want to talk about the wedding,” she says pointing an accusatory finger towards him. “I’ve been dealing with all this by myself and you keep pushing me away! Why are you being so difficult?”

“Because I don’t care about the fucking wedding sometimes Rachel,” Patrick spits out. Rachel physically recoils and Patrick feels a rock in the pit of his stomach. Patrick’s head drops into his hands as his breath begins to quicken. “I’m sorry Rachel, that was out of line.”

“Yeah,” she replies swallowing hard. “Yeah it was.” She turns off the stove and takes off her apron. “I think I’m going to go over to Mallory’s place tonight. I think we need some time apart.”

Patrick closes his eyes tightly. “Rachel-”

“Patrick, it’s fine,” she says. “We both need to cool off.”

She walks out of the kitchen and grabs her coat and bag from the coatrack. Patrick follows her, feeling sick to his stomach.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Rachel says from the door. Patrick nods at her numbly.

She gives him one more look before she’s out the door, closing it softly behind her. Patrick runs his hands through his hair, groaning loudly. Suddenly he feels a rough cough climb up his throat, the dull ache that’s been there since the morning intensifying ten fold. Patrick pads back into the kitchen and rummages the cabinet for tea bags, making a frustrated noise when he only finds empty boxes. Then he remembers his mother gifting him with a basket of treats from her new neighbor down the street only a few days ago. _“She’s a little odd, but the shortbread biscuits she gave us were delicious! She gave us this extra basket, there’s some tea in there too.”_

The gift basket is sitting by the front door, still wrapped in cellophane. He rummages through it and finds an unmarked tin box. He opens it and takes a whiff of what’s inside. The tea bags smells incredibly sweet, like caramel and chocolate.

He makes himself a cup, his guilt still heavy on his mind. He’ll call Rachel first thing in the morning and have everything sorted out. Although it doesn’t lessen the weight of his insecurities of marrying her.

He takes a sip of the tea, his senses flooded with sweetness. It’s different from what he normally drinks, but the warmth soothes his sore throat and he drinks until his cup is empty.

He doesn’t know when it starts, but suddenly his head is pounding and his throat is closing up. Patrick feels his body beginning to give out from under him and stumbles to his bed just in time as chills run up his body. He shivers violently underneath the covers, his face scrunched up tightly in pain. He counts to four when he passes out.

\\\\\

Patrick feels his head pounding against his skull the moment he feels his body coming to. He squeezes his eyes hard when sunlight begins to peak through his eyelids. He groans loudly, his muscles creaking uncomfortably as his arms reach out to pull Rachel close to him. But his arms wrap around empty air and suddenly his memories of last night come rushing back to him.

_Fuck._

Patrick is wracked with guilt at how he spoke to Rachel last night. She didn’t deserve to have his frustration unleashed on her. He hears the door open and close and is ready to get up and apologize. But before he can do so, a man’s voice pierces through the air.

“I know you’re feeling like shit right now, but you need to take your medicine.”

Patrick’s eyes snap open and he sits up quickly, groaning again as the world swoops around him. He closes his eyes and cradles his head and the voice chuckles. Patrick feels the bed dip and a warm hand comes to cup behind his neck. Patrick slowly opens his eyes and looks up and sees a man with dark hair and even darker eyebrows smiling down at him.

“I told you we could have shared the umbrella,” he says gently, rubbing his thumb into Patrick’s pulse point. “As romantic as it was hiking back up to our spot yesterday, the consequences have been less than ideal. But at least you’re not vomiting anymore.”

And as if on cue, Patrick feels the contents of his stomach beginning to rush up through him and before he has time to think, the man is thrusting a bucket into his hands and Patrick is emptying everything into it.

“Spoke too soon,” the voice murmurs, rubbing his back.

Patrick coughs feebly into the bucket, feeling weaker and more disoriented after vomiting. He feels the man wiping his forehead and his face with a warm cloth. The same pair of hands presses a pill into his mouth and it goes down with several desperate gulps of water. 

“Go back to sleep,” the man says softly, brushing Patrick’s hair out of his face. “I’ll handle the store and come back to check on you during lunch.”

Patrick feels too weak to say anything, to ask questions, and feels his body beginning to drift away.

“I love you,” the voice says quietly in his ear. And then Patrick falls asleep.

\\\\\

When he wakes up again, his head isn’t hurting as much. His body is still clenched with pain and his vision is still a little fuzzy, but he’s able to lift himself so that he’s sitting up on the bed. Patrick has lived in his apartment for four years, Rachel officially moving in eight months ago. He knows his apartment and therefore comes to the stunning conclusion that he is no longer in it.

He’s in a small studio apartment the size of a shoebox. He’s sitting on a wrought iron bed with a grey comforter and white sheets. There’s a loveseat in the middle of the apartment with a small kitchen at the opposite side of the room.

Nothing is familiar and everything is strange, and a wave of panic crashes over him, forcing him to rest his head in his hands as he takes several gasping breaths through his mouth and begins counting to ten.

He counts to seven when the front door swings open and the dark haired man from before walks through holding a brown paper bag in his hand.

“Good, you’re up,” he smiles at Patrick and walks over to him, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. Patrick just stares blankly at him as heat rushes up his body.

_What. The. Fuck._

The man doesn’t notice Patrick’s internal panic attack and pulls out several containers from the paper bag.

“Twyla recommended her famous chicken soup, said it has healing powers. But the last time Twyla said that about her cooking my dad was stuck in the bathroom for two hours,” the man says crinkling his nose distastefully. “She gave us a cup on the house, but don’t worry, I got you your usual. Take small bites though, your stomach probably can’t handle too much right now,” he says passing Patrick a container.

Patrick takes it hesitantly, still staring at the man in confusion. The man still doesn’t falter, continuing to talk.

“Mrs. Morris came by today and bought a whole case of wine. Said she had a party tomorrow night. She invited us, but even if you weren’t sick, I don’t think it’s a good idea to expose you to so many cats. Hives isn’t a good look against your pale complexion,” he says with a teasing grin, opening up his own container, slightly soggy waffles with strawberries piled high. He gets up and walks to the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of maple syrup, returning back to the bed and pouring an alarming amount onto his waffles.

“We also have to call Samantha for another order of body milk, we’re down to our last box. And Heather called to tell us she has some new cheeses for us to sample. Hopefully you’ll be better soon so we can drive to her farm in a couple of weeks.” The man is chewing on his waffles when he notices Patrick hasn’t moved an inch. “Honey, I know you’re not feel great, but you have to eat something.”

Patrick startles, his gut twisting at the affectionate pet name. He carefully opens his container and finds a chicken club sandwich with pickles. He carefully takes a bite and the sharp taste of mustard hits his tongue. 

“Stevie told my mom you were sick,” the man says rolling his eyes. “She has announced that she will be staying at least twenty five feet away from you up until two weeks after your flu is gone. Dad tried to tell me an old family remedy that involves parsnips? And Alexis was too busy being herself to listen to what I was saying when I talked to her. With all this crazy in my family I’m amazed that you still went ahead and married me,” he says with a grin, shaking his head in amusement.

Patrick drops his sandwich in shock.

_Married? I’m married?_

Patrick lifts his left hand and on his fourth finger is a gold band, glinting beautifully in the sunlight.

“Uh-oh,” the man says and with super human speed, the bucket is back in Patrick’s arms.

“Maybe we should try the soup,” the man murmurs patting Patrick’s back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many kind and beautiful comments ❤️ I loved reading every single one of them!

After drinking a full bottle of water and a glass of orange juice, Patrick is tucked back into bed, the man smoothing out the comforter with his hands.

“I have go and open the store back up,” the man says with regret. He runs his hands through Patrick’s hair, Patrick’s eyes closing in ecstasy as his nails scrape along his scalp.

“Call me if you need anything,” the man says bending down to kiss Patrick’s forehead. “I love you,” he whispers gently into his skin and then he’s gone, the door shutting behind him.

Patrick waits exactly three seconds before sitting back up, his head dizzy with so many thoughts.

_Where am I? Who was that? When did I get married? I married a man?_

Patrick stands up from the bed, his legs a little wobbly, and pads across the apartment, his eyes darting every which way. He sees his guitar leaning by the fireplace, a set of keys with the same Big Ben keychain he’s had since he was six, and the whiskey decanter his dad got him for Christmas when he was twenty-five.

Patrick runs his hands through his hair, his heart thumping hard against his chest. Bits and pieces of him are everywhere, physical proof of his existence. This is him, he sees himself in this space. But nothing feels familiar.

_This is just a fever dream_ , he thinks to himself as he starts pacing. _A really intense fever dream. There is no way I’m married to a man. I’m not gay._

He stops his pacing as that last thought latches onto him.

_I’m not gay._

He feels his legs weakening from underneath him.

_I’m not gay. I’m not gay. I’m_ not _gay._

Patrick sits heavily on the loveseat, cradling his head in his hands.

“This can’t be happening,” he whispers to himself.

He needs to leave. He needs to go home. But where is home? If he’s here, where are his parents?

He lifts his head and looks around for his phone, finding it on the side table next to a glass of water. He looks at the date, his gut twisting.

October 4th.

He looks frantically through his phone for clues. He finds messages from his parents, names he’s unfamiliar with, a few from his cousins. His email doesn’t help either, the messages from his co-workers from only a few days ago gone without a trace and various invoices taking their place instead.

The photos in his phone only increase his panic, pictures of the dark haired man taking up space.

He drops his phone onto his bed as if he’s been burned by it and backs away, once again looking frantically around the tiny apartment.

He walks to the mantle above the fireplace, various photos in frames. He’s smiling in all of them, his eyes crinkled with joy with his arms around the man as if he were always meant to hold him. He picks up a photo of the two of them wearing formal attire, their arms around each other, kissing so tenderly Patrick feels his eyes stinging with tears.

God, he looks so happy.

He never knew he could look so happy.

He puts the photo down and picks up another, this time a photo of just the man. He’s leaning against a counter, his head propped up with the palm of his hand. He’s handsome, incredibly handsome, the most handsome man Patrick has ever seen. His eyes are dark but soft, framed by ebony lashes and thick eyebrows. His hair is styled upward and he’s wearing a black sweater with white lettering. He’s beautiful and something in Patrick’s gut claws at him.

He sits back down on the couch and lists everything he knows so far.

He’s in an apartment that belongs to him and a man he’s never met before. He is married to said man. In this universe, Patrick Brewer is gay.

_Patrick Brewer is gay._

The world spins and Patrick’s hand shoots out to clutch onto the armrest of the sofa to steady himself as he begins to feel dizzy.

_Patrick Brewer is gay._

His eyes fill with tears and he’s too weak to stop them, his body shaking violently as he sobs.

_I think I’m gay._

This Patrick in the photos doesn’t look like he needs to be told to smile. It seems like he just does. He's always felt like he’s been chasing after an answer to a question he didn’t know how to ask.

He stares at the photos on the mantel, physical manifestations of what his life could be like, Patrick wonders if this man is his answer.

He takes a shuddering breath and hastily wipes his eyes. There's too much to unpack right now. There's too much he needs to think about. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do now. How can he pretend to live a life that does not belong to him?

Suddenly his phone begins to ring in his hands, Patrick looking down at the caller ID with fear.

_Mom._

“Hello?” Patrick answers, his voice trembling.

“Oh my sweet boy,” his mother’s voice rings in his ear. “How are you feeling? David told me you’re sick”

_David._ _His name is David._

“Mom,” Patrick says sitting down on the couch, his throat closing up.

“Oh dear, you sound terrible. Have you been resting? David sounded so worried when I spoke with him just now, but I know he’s taking such good care of you. He loves you so much,” she coos at him.

Tears fall down Patrick’s face.

_Someone loves me._

“I’m okay,” Patrick says wiping his nose. “How are you and dad?”

“We’re just fine, your dad is out in the backyard with Mr. Samson trying to fix a panel in the fence. Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart? Are you eating?”

“I’m trying to,” Patrick mumbles, feeling his stomach clench.

“David asked me for my recipe for chicken soup, sweet thing. He’ll make some for you tonight.”

“Okay,” Patrick answers weakly.

“Oh! Gotta go, I think your father just whacked his thumb with the hammer.”

Patrick grins weakly, and quickly stops her before she can hang up. “Wait, mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

Patrick chews on his bottom lip, at a loss of words. “Do, do you like David?”

“That’s a silly question,” his mother says with a laugh. “You should see your father Patrick, showing off our two sweet boys to everyone,” she says with pride.

Patrick closes his eyes as his heart clenches. “Okay, love you.”

“Love you too, sweet boy.”

Patrick hangs up the phone, gripping it tightly in his hands.

His parents like David. His parents love David, his husband. His parents love him, their gay son.

He could go home right now. He could go home and his parent’s would open their door and let him go up to his old bedroom. He could leave.

But Patrick finds it difficult to move.

It's probably the illness that’s wearing away at his body. Or maybe it’s something else. He’s not sure.

Patrick stands up and stumbles back into the bed, feeling his body beginning to fade underneath the weight of everything. Patrick closes his eyes and falls asleep thinking about his husband.

\\\\\

He wakes up to the smell of chicken, Rachel’s name on his lips. But as Patrick blinks awake, he’s still in the unknown bed in the unknown apartment with an unknown man stirring something on the stove.

He’s singing softly to himself and Patrick cranes his ear to listen. The familiar chorus of “Always be my Baby” by Mariah Carey fills his head.

Patrick watches David shimmy his shoulders and wiggle his hips, unable to stop a his lips from twitching upward.

_He’s cute. My husband is cute._

The thought is still too foreign for Patrick and he shakes it away. He thinks about going back to sleep to avoid any conversation, but David turns around and his eyes light up at the sight of him, something inside of Patrick squeezing tightly.

“Hi honey,” David says walking quickly to Patrick’s side. “Think you can keep down some chicken soup?” He asks brushing Patrick’s hair with his fingers.

Patrick nods weakly and David goes back to the stove, ladling soup into a bowl.

“I called your mom earlier,” David says placing a tray gently in Patrick’s lap. “Got her recipe. Let me know if it’s missing anything.” David turns around and goes back into the kitchen, humming softly to himself. Patrick stares down at the soup, chunks of celery, carrots, and chicken staring back at him. He picks up his spoon and carefully sips some into his mouth. Flavors rush over his tongue reminding him of home and safety. It tastes perfect.

Patrick doesn’t realize he’s crying until a tear lands on the tray by his hand. Soon his body is shaking as he’s overcome with emotions again.

“Patrick?” David says worriedly, rushing to his side. “What’s wrong? Does it taste bad?”

Patrick shakes his head, too overwhelmed to say anything. The soup is perfect. David is perfect. His life is perfect. And Patrick doesn’t know how he got any of it.

David takes the tray out of his lap and places it carefully on the trunk at the foot of the bed. And then his arms wrap around Patrick, cradling him close, and Patrick has never felt more loved, more safe.

“It’s okay,” David murmurs into his ear. “Dr. Park said you should be better by the end of the week. I know it’s a lot.”

Patrick buries his head into David’s neck and inhales deeply, his scent washing over him and his body relaxing immediately.

_Who are you David Rose and how did I find you?_

“Come on,” David says gently, nudging Patrick’s side. “Let’s go to sleep.”

David maneuvers them so that Patrick is cradled by his side, his arm wrapped around his shoulder and Patrick’s head tucked underneath David’s chin. Patrick thinks to himself that he should feel awkward and uncomfortable, but his body melts into David, settling deeper into bed.

“Won’t you get sick?” Patrick asks, his voice raspy. David tightens his arms around him in response. “If I get sick, you’ll just have to take care of me.”

Patrick’s eyes droop closed and he thinks to himself that he might like that, taking care of David, his husband.

As he falls deeper away, the last thing he hears is David murmuring softly, “Our two month anniversary will be better, I promise.”

\\\\\

The next few days pass by in a blur. David continues to care for Patrick, bringing him everything he needs before he leaves for the day, kissing Patrick’s forehead and saying, “I love you.” He always comes back during lunch, bringing Patrick his favorite meals.

Patrick still feels very weak, even under David’s very meticulous care. He surmises the stress of everything isn’t helping him fight off the cold, but it does help his situation.

Being sick allows Patrick to observe David, using his illness as the perfect excuse to not speak much, gesturing to his sore throat or feigning a terrible migraine. David does the talking for the both of them.

He stockpiles as much information as he can from his conversations from David. So far he has learned that he and David run a business together, they live in a town called Schitt’s Creek, David’s best friend is a crass woman named Stevie, his family lives in the town’s motel, and he and David have been together for two years, having gotten married last month.

His parents are still living in his childhood home four hours away and judging from the photo of him and David sitting in the tire swing in his backyard, they’ve made a couple of trips there.

His laptop also carries their life, various vendor agreements and spreadsheets for the store in neat and organized folders. It seems as though Patrick Brewer will always love spreadsheets in any universe he finds himself in.

The laptop also has many photos on it and when David goes back to the store after lunch, Patrick will open it up and look through the photos of this life that he’s somehow fallen into. The wedding photos are the most jarring to look through, because although it is his face, he’s really staring at a stranger, an alternate version of himself because he has never seen that much easy happiness on his face.

He stares at a photo of the two of them wrapped in each other’s arms, foreheads together, eyes closed with secretive smiles on their faces.

Patrick realizes, as he wipes tears away from his eyes, that he’s jealous.

Patrick learns a lot about David from watching him take care of Patrick. He knows that David is very particular about his style, treating his clothing with delicate care. He also has a very detailed skin routine for the morning and the evening before bed. David’s favorite food is pizza and he listens mainly to strong female pop divas. He talks with his hands and is very expressive with his face. And although he can be overly dramatic, David is incredibly kind and thoughtful to everyone around him.

Patrick has also learned that David loves him very much, or at least some version of Patrick.

He says it a lot, but he also shows it. He shows it by bringing him all of his favorite foods. He shows it by leaving a stack of books on the side table so that Patrick doesn’t have to get out of bed. He shows it by carefully laying out his medication for him every morning with a cold glass of water before heading off to the store. He shows it by just knowing Patrick and what he needs before he can even open his mouth to ask for it.

Patrick is reading a book in bed when David comes through the front door, huffing to himself, his eyebrows knitted together tightly. His shoulders are tense and he’s clutching onto a paper bag from the café tightly in his hands.

Patrick watches David move around the kitchen restlessly, his movements sharp and clumsy. Patrick puts his book down and holds his hands in his lap, waiting for David to speak.

“Roland came in and destroyed and entire box of hand creams today,” David says slamming the refrigerator door. “And then Alexis interrupted my meeting with Janice about expanding her contract with us. And to top it all off, I got coffee on my Givenchy!” David says gesturing wildly with his hands. He looks frazzled and frustrated and haggard.

“Today was not a good day,” David grumbles out loud, preparing Patrick’s dinner. David stomps over to Patrick and hands him the tray, his eyebrows still furrowed and his face pressed with stress. As David begins to walk away, Patrick reaches out and grabs his wrist. David turns around and looks at him questioningly. Without saying a word, Patrick moves the tray carefully to the other side of the bed and scoots over, pulling back the covers and patting the spot he was sitting in.

David’s shoulders relax and his face begins to crumble, his eyes shining with tears. David toes off his shoes and climbs into bed, curling himself into Patrick’s side, his head resting on his chest. Patrick’s arms come around David easily, now used to holding him, stroking his back gently.

It was difficult at first sharing a bed with David without being overtly obvious about his discomfort. The moment he slid into bed, Patrick’s body tensed up like a board, barely breathing and terrified that David would notice. But David actually kept some space between himself and Patrick that first night, murmuring about not wanting to wake Patrick up with his jostling, and fell asleep quickly as Patrick watched his face relax in slumber. He doesn’t remember when he passed out, but does remember the moment when he woke up with David’s face pressed into his neck, an arm thrown over his waist. And Patrick laid there in the early morning thinking to himself that this shouldn’t feel as right as it did. Since then, he’s gotten used to the warmth of David’s body next to his.

“You always know what to do,” David mumbles into the skin of Patrick’s neck. Patrick stops stroking and lets David’s words sink.

It’s only been five days since he woke up in this new world. Five days of watching David and learning everything about him. Five days to know what David needs. Patrick thinks to himself that it wasn’t difficult to all, as if he was always meant to do this.

“I can’t wait for you to get better,” David says, his voice quieting down. “As much as I love hearing the sound of my own voice, I miss yours. It’s too quiet without you.”

Patrick holds onto David until his breathing evens out and his face goes slack. Patrick stares down at his face, tracing his nose and lips with his finger.

Patrick wonders where his alter ego has gone, if he’s searching for a way to get back to David. Because Patrick knows that if the tables were reversed, he would do anything he could to find David again.

He also wonders if that other version of himself fell for David as quickly as he has, if it only took a matter of days to be completely enraptured by David Rose. He thinks so.

_I could love you,_ Patrick thinks to himself. _I could love you forever._

Careful to not jostle David too much, he gently lifts himself from bed, tucking David in and taking the tray into the kitchen. He packs his dinner back up and puts it in the fridge, turning off the lights of the apartment. He crawls back into bed, not wanting to wake David up. But as soon as his body settles in, David’s arms reach for him, wrapping around him and pulling him close.

It’s been five days since Patrick woke up with David Rose. Five days.


	3. Chapter 3

Patrick wakes up the on Friday and knows immediately that his fever has broken. His muscles no longer feel like they’re contracted together tightly, his head feels clear and the itch in his throat is dull. He blinks awake and feels the pressure of David’s head on his chest, David snoring lightly from below him. He runs his hands gently through David’s hair, getting lost in his thoughts.

It’s obvious that he won’t be returning to where he came from any time soon. He might never go back. The guilt he’s been pushing down rises to the surface as Rachel’s face appears in his head.

_Oh God, Rachel._

He doesn’t even know where she is in the universe, if she’s okay. He hopes she’s okay. And happy, so happy. Because Patrick, as he looks down at David’s face, realizes he could be happy.

David begins to stir in his sleep, his face scrunching up cutely. Patrick smiles down at him and rubs away he crease in between his eyebrows.

“Hey,” Patrick says softly. “I think my fever’s gone.”

David opens his eyes and blinks up at Patrick. His hand reaches up and touches Patrick’s forehead. “Hm, it seems so,” David says snuggling back into Patrick’s chest. “Thank God. Now you can get your own food.”

Patrick chuckles and tightens his arms around David. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“You’re welcome. I would like chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, please.”

\\\\\

Patrick makes David his pancakes, still a little achy, but definitely feeling lighter on his feet. David sits at the kitchen table sipping his coffee, watching Patrick with a smirk. David announces that he’s going to open the store an hour later than usual just to make sure Patrick is okay also announcing that it be best that Patrick still stay home for one more day of rest. Patrick doesn’t argue back knowing he could never win. Patrick is flipping the pancakes, whistling to himself when he feels David’s body crowding behind him.

“Now that you’re feeling better, we can go back to our regularly scheduled programming,” David says, his fingers skimming up Patrick’s arms.

Patrick drops the spatula, his body tensing up as he reacts to David’s touch. He feels like he’s on fire, his heart beginning to race and his pants tightening uncomfortably.

David kisses the back of Patrick’s neck, his fingers teasing the top of Patrick’s pants. Patrick’s breath quickens as he presses closer, feeling David’s erection nudging into the cleft of his ass.

Patrick has thought about this during the last few days. In David’s world, they’ve been together for two years so intimacy is a given. And if David’s comments are any indication, they have a _very_ healthy sex life.

Sex has always been a passive experience for him. But the feeling of David pressed tightly against his back is anything but that.

Being with a man is foreign to him, but even though his mind is wracked with uncertainty, his body has been reacting to David’s touch on its own, as if it knows exactly what to do.

On his third day with David Rose, Patrick woke up to David gently grinding his erection into Patrick’s thigh while he was sleeping. Patrick bolted up out of bed feeling flustered and conflicted, his body reacting in a way it’s never done before. When David left for the day, Patrick hopped into the shower and got himself off to the thought of David, coming harder than he’s ever had in his life. He spent the rest of the day reflecting on it, pacing the length of the apartment as he continued to come to terms with the truth he’s been missing.

Patrick has never even thought about what it would be like to be with a man. He doesn’t know what to do. They haven’t even kissed yet. But David continues to stroke up and down his body with gentle touches and Patrick loses himself a little.

“W-What about the p-pancakes,” Patrick says weakly, gasping when David sucks on the back of his neck.

“Mm,” David hums, running his hands up Patrick’s chest. “Good point.”

And suddenly David takes his hands away and sits back down at the table, Patrick standing by the stove shaking and missing David’s warmth.

“We can revisit this later,” David says picking up his phone and scrolling. Patrick stares back at David, his jaw slack.

_We can revisit this later._

Revisit what? Sex? Sex with a man? Sex with _David_?

Patrick reaches blindly for the spatula and continues to make David’s breakfast with shaking hands while _not_ thinking about sex with David.

He counts to six before he thinks about it and drops the spatula.

\\\\\

David wipes the dishes clean with a dish towel, Patrick sitting on the couch trying not to spiral.

It’s not working. Because know he's just thinking about David's dick. 

Patrick’s gay revelation is still very much new. Everything is still hypothetical and he doesn’t want to jump into the deep end so quickly. But the fact of the matter is David has been married to him and they have obviously done _things._

And Patrick is very much interested in exploring those _things_ , but how do you tell your husband who has been your partner for two years you want to take things slow?

“Thank you for breakfast,” David says walking past him and towards the bed. Patrick startles out of his thoughts and replies, “Of course, David.”

David grins at him and begins the make the bed. “Stevie asked if we wanted to get dinner at the café tonight. She wants to celebrate your triumphant return.”

“Dinner sounds nice,” Patrick agrees, pulling at his hands.

David stops making the bed and furrows his eyebrows at Patrick. “Everything okay?”

It’s both amazing and startling how in tune David is with Patrick’s nuances. It just takes one look for him to know how Patrick is feeling. It warms him and terrifies him to have someone who knows him so well.

“Yeah, just still a little achy,” Patrick replies weakly.

David smiles softly at him. “Then how about we order take out and have Stevie come over instead.”

Patrick nods at David, smiling gently at him back. “I’d like that.”

\\\\\

David leaves for the store around ten, kissing Patrick’s cheek and walking out the door with Patrick’s arms reaching for him. It’s been easy falling into David’s affectionate touches, now to the point where Patrick craves them. His hands sweeping over Patrick’s shoulders, feeling his lips press into the side of his head, large hands carding through his hair. Every touch ignites fire inside of Patrick and it’s wonderful and real and he finds himself pressing himself harder into them, wanting to be closer to David. And watching David respond under his hands has also been just as intoxicating, how a gentle brush of fingers against his skin makes David hum under his breath, his body relaxing underneath his fingertips, the smile David gives him as he takes Patrick’s hand and laces their fingers together.

It doesn’t make sense how quickly Patrick has been able to fit into this life so perfectly. Sometimes, he still thinks this is all a dream.

Patrick spends the day cleaning the apartment, putting away the dishes, changing the sheets, and wiping down every possible surface.

He folds David’s sweaters carefully, his rands running over the soft fabrics and smiling wistfully. He wonders what stories each sweater holds. He holds a black sweater with a large white lightning bolt for a little bit longer than the others, imagining David wearing it and looking so handsome.

David comes home around 5:30, shouldering his way in while holding two white tote bags in both of his hands.

“I brought wine and cheese from the store, and yes I paid for them,” David says dropping the bags onto the kitchen table. “I brought home a bottle of your favorite ’97 and will be hiding it in the cabinet.”

“Do you think that’ll be enough to keep it from Stevie?” Patrick asks from the couch, a baseball game on with the volume on low.

“No, she has the nose of a prized bloodhound, but we can try.”

Patrick smiles and basks in the domesticity of watching David putter around the kitchen. After he’s put everything away, Patrick is able to pull David into bed with the laptop before Stevie comes over around eight, David’s head on Patrick’s chest as he draws patterns on Patrick’s stomach with his finger.

Patrick is trying very hard to focus on _The Lake House_ , but David is very distracting, Patrick’s stomach clenching at his touch.

“I wonder what it’s like,” David murmurs to himself.

“What?” Patrick asks, carding his hand through David’s hair.

“To live in two separate worlds like that.”

Patrick stops moving his hand through David’s hair, his words making his body freeze up.

“I don’t know how I would be able to cope,” David continues. “I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s very romantic in a cinematic way, but it just seems so unfair.”

Patrick swallows hard and tentatively reaches his hand down to hold onto David’s, David lacing their fingers together without a second thought. “They find each other though, don’t they? In the end?”

Patrick can’t see David’s face, but he feels him smile against his chest. “Yes, they do.”

\\\\\

Even after staring at a photo of Stevie before she arrives, Patrick is still taken aback when he sees her in person. She’s sharper, her eyes piercing through him as she thrusts a pizza box into his hands.

“Where’s the wine?” She asks and before Patrick can respond, David has already handed her a glass.

“Did you make sure to ask for extra pepperoni?” David asks taking the box from Patrick’s hands.

“Yes, David,” Stevie replies rolling her eyes and plopping down on the couch. “And extra marinara sauce for the breadsticks. Did you also want me to bring candlesticks and a jazz band?”

David hums and sets the table. “Do you notice me ignoring you?”

Patrick tries to stifle his grin behind his hand and freezes up when Stevie’s eye snap towards him. “Glad you’re alive. Dealing with your husband by myself has been unbearable.”

“As if you have anyone else to talk to,” David replies absentmindedly as he reaches for a stack of plates from the cabinet.

“I would if I didn’t use up all of my time helping you at the store,” Stevie harps back with a grin.

Patrick smiles watching them interact. It’s better than he imagined.

They eat pizza together, David and Stevie continuing to bicker and Patrick gets lost in his thoughts again.

_This is a nice life_ , he thinks to himself. _It’s fun and wonderful._

“You are absolutely not coming with us to Heather’s farm,” David says to Stevie. “This is strictly a _business_ luncheon, not an all you can eat buffet.”

“I am a customer at your business, David. My opinion in your products matter.”

“Customers pay for things. You are a common burglar,” David replies pointing at her.

“With very good taste in cheese.”

“Patrick, can you please tell Stevie she cannot come with us,” David says turning to him, batting his eyes at him. Patrick smiles at David and without looking at Stevie says, “Stevie you can’t come with us.”

“That’s not fair, we both know Patrick is a biased party,” Stevie replies crossing her arms.

“Why do you think I married him,” David says with a grin, going back to his pizza and chewing happily.

\\\\\

After they’ve settled into bed, kicking Stevie out with a bottle of wine, Patrick recounts the week, stroking David’s back as he snores into his side.

Patrick needs answers. He needs to know why he’s here, how he got here.

He knows he should be actively searching for them.

But he doesn’t want to go looking for them. Not if finding those answer takes him away from David.

_David._

Patrick looks down at the face of his husband, curled tightly against him, his face unravelled with sleep.

_Are you there_ , Patrick asks himself. _Are you over there too?_

Patrick imagines David in his world, just as beautiful, just as special, but without him. Without this. Patrick wonders if David is waiting for him too.

David lets out a small snore, jostling himself in his sleep, his eyebrows pinched together tightly. Patrick gently soothes the wrinkle down with his finger, David’s face melting back down into sleep and Patrick knows he’s in trouble. Pulling his arms tighter around David, Patrick closes his eyes and starts counting to ten, the soft rumble of David’s chest lulling him to sleep.

He gets to three before everything fades away.

\\\\\

The alarm goes off at 7:15am jolting Patrick awake. David crinkles his nose and burrows deeper into bed. Patrick carefully reaches over and turns off the alarm on David’s phone.

“I’ll open up, take the morning off,” Patrick says to David softly who merely grunts in his sleep.

Patrick gets out of bed and goes into the bathroom, taking a quick shower and getting ready for the day. When he comes back out, David has shifted on the bed and is now on his stomach, holding Patrick’s pillow close to his body.

Patrick smiles and quietly walks over to him, crouching down and pushing the hair out of his face. David’s face is pinched together tightly. He reaches in and kisses David on his forehead and smiles when David’s face relaxes in his sleep.

_I could love you. I could love you forever._

Patrick quietly walks to the door and opens it, looking at David one more time before closing it gently behind him.

It takes Patrick twice as long to get to the store because he ends up driving the wrong way for the first five minutes. With the help of the GPS on his phone, Patrick finally makes it to the store and parks his car behind the building. When he walks to the front and looks at Rose Apothecary for the first time, he feels strangely proud.

Even though he didn’t help make this, knowing some other version of him did brings him happiness. That the Patrick from this world broke away from the mundane and chased after something exciting, something worthwhile.

He imagines where he’d be right now if he were back from where he came from, sitting in his cubicle counting down the seconds until he could go home, feeling inadequate about his life. This store doesn’t feel like that at all.

Patrick unlocks the door and is even more overwhelmed when he steps inside. It’s beautiful, clean and elegant but with warmth. It feels like David.

Patrick walks around and takes note of all the products they have, cataloguing everything in his head just in case customers have questions.

By the time he’s swept through the entire store, Patrick is impressed by Rose Apothecary. He poked around his laptop a few night ago knowing that in any universe he would have neatly kept spreadsheets and was pleasantly surprised by the numbers reflecting a steady stream of profit. Everything about the store was carefully thought out and if Patrick weren’t attracted to David Rose before, he certainly was now.

At 9am, Patrick flips the closed sign to open and goes to the counter to study the books more, tracking everything the other Patrick has written down in the margins. At 10:30, the store experiences a rush of customers, Patrick answering as many questions the best he can with the limited knowledge he’s managed to obtain. Thankfully at 10:37, David strolls in with two paper cups in his hands and seamlessly begins to interact with the customers, handing Patrick a tea while answering questions about the new line of bath bombs the store now carries. Patrick rings up customer after customer, his eyes darting back to David and watching him educate and sell products to customers.

Yes, Patrick is definitely very much attracted to David Rose.

Patrick takes a sip of his tea, the flavors of lemon, ginger and honey flooding his senses. Of course David knows his tea order. When there’s a slight lull in between customers checking out, Patrick reaches for David’s cup and takes a sip of his coffee when he’s not looking, wanting to know his coffee order.

Caramel and chocolate his his tongue and suddenly Patrick is transported back to his kitchen, sipping on a cup of unknown tea.

He blinks to himself a couple of times, shaking the image out of his head when someone places a basket of items on the counter in front of him. Patrick rings them up, looking at David’s coffee from the corner of his eye.

\\\\\

They’re busy for the rest of the day, both taking turns eating lunch in the backroom. By the time David flips the sign around to closed, Patrick feels his lower back twinge with pain. But he feels good. Better than good, he feels amazing, as if he did something really important today.

Most of the lights are off except for the ones by the cash register, casting a warm glow over the store. It’s getting darker outside, many people already heading into the café for dinner.

“Well that was a successful day,” David says reorganizing the body milks.

“Busy, but good,” Patrick says counting the till.

“Enough for that espresso machine?” David asks with a shimmy.

Patrick chuckles and locks the register. “I think the café does an adequate enough job of supporting your caffeine addiction.”

“They say you save a lot of money by making your own coffee,” David says walking up to Patrick.

“Not if it costs you $2000 to buy the machine, David,” Patrick says raising an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, yes it’s a monetary investment, but it’s also an investment for my quality of life,” David whines.

“Is your quality of life severely lacking, David?” Patrick teases.

David looks at Patrick in the eyes and smiles at him, his lips pressed together tightly and smushed to one side. It’s shy and vulnerable and Patrick feels his heart bursting.

“Well, maybe not,” David replies quietly and Patrick’s heart stutters.

They both start walking to the middle of the store, neither of them saying anything and keeping their eyes on each other. And like some choreographed dance they’ve done a thousands times, David arms wrap around Patrick’s neck and his go around David’s waist, pulling him in close.

Patrick feels his heart hammering against his chest, his gut twisting with butterflies. David is smiling at him, soft and open, and Patrick realizes he’s only seen that smile when it’s just the two of them. It’s for no one else but Patrick.

_I can just lean in and kiss him_ , Patrick thinks wildly to himself. _I can kiss him and he’ll kiss me back._

But his nerves stop him from leaning in. He doesn’t feel brave.

But his eyes flick down to David’s lips before looking back at David again, and that’s all David needs to lean in and gently brush his lips agains Patrick’s.

Time stops when David kisses him. It’s nothing like he’s ever felt before. It feels like he’s floating and drowning at the same time, his body clawing to himself. David moans softly and Patrick’s body explodes, lava traveling through his veins. And when David sighs gently, opening his mouth, Patrick pushes through, needing more of David, unable to get enough.

Kissing David feels like salvation. Like an answer to a question he didn’t think to ask.

His arms wrap tighter around his waist and Patrick can feel the cool press of David’s gold rings on the back of his neck, shivering with pleasure and deepening the kiss even more.

How could he have gone this long and not have known this feeling? How could he ever go back knowing that this is what it’s supposed to feel like and pretend this doesn’t exist? How can he ever go on without David?

That last thought jolts through Patrick making him break the kiss. They’re both breathing heavily, David smiling at him with a dazed look and Patrick can’t help but dive in again, needing David’s lips on him again.

David laughs, the sound tickling Patrick’s ear. He pulls away, Patrick leaning forward to chase David’s kiss. David laughs harder, knocking their foreheads together and smiling widely.

“What?” Patrick asks breathlessly.

David squeezes his lips together and looks away, his eyes crinkling. “Nothing, it’s just that,” he turns his head back to Patrick and he looks at him so openly Patrick feels weak at the knees. “This reminds me of our first kiss.”

Patrick stills, pulling away a little so he can look at David. “Really?”

“Yeah,” David smiles, pecking Patrick chastely. “I loved that kiss. You were so unsure, but it felt like you couldn’t wait.”

Patrick feels himself soften and pulls David in for a hug, tucking his head into his neck as his mind begins swirling with thoughts.

David’s hands rub down his back, stroking up his spine. “I would have waited though. For you.”

Patrick closes his eyes and wonders how anyone could walk away from this, from David.

They stay locked together until David’s stomach grumbles, walking to the café holding hands. They split an order of mozzarella sticks, a reminiscent smile on David’s face and Patrick yearns to know where it came from.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry in advance, it gets angsty here.
> 
> Thank you again for all the beautiful comments! They have really gotten me through a truly terrible week!

Patrick wakes up every morning afraid of where he’ll be. When he opens his eyes, he makes sure that David is still in his arms, tightening them around him when he is. One morning, Patrick actually wakes up without him and his panic is only quenched by the obvious flush coming from the bathroom. And when David crawls back into bed, Patrick latches onto him, resting his head onto David’s chest to listen to his beating heart as he falls back asleep.

Other than that one instance, he always wakes up before him, spending a couple of minutes watching him sleep, tracing his face with his fingers and memorizing every detail. Because if he wakes up without him one day, Patrick wants to remember what it was like to have been married to David Rose.

When it’s time to get up, Patrick will wake David up with lazy kisses, David humming into his lips with a smile.

They get ready together in the morning, trading more kisses as they pass each other on the way to the bathroom or kitchen. And when it’s nice outside, they walk to the store hand in hand, David talking about anything, his free hand waving in the air. When they reach the store, David will give Patrick a gentle kiss and murmur, “Coffee,” in between their lips, unlocking the door and heading inside while Patrick walks across the street to the café to get his coffee order.

And when Patrick hands David his coffee cup, he’ll kiss him softly, smiling at him with a crooked smile making Patrick’s insides twist.

At the end of the day, after sweeping up and counting the till, they walk back to their little apartment, Patrick cooking dinner for David as he leans against the kitchen counter, a glass of wine in his hand, complaining about Roland. And when David tries to sneak a bite of whatever Patrick is making, he’ll swat his hand away and kiss away David’s pout, feeling David’s smile curl upward against his mouth.

They’ll eat together, David waxing poetics about whatever new incorrect fashion trend there is now or complaining about Alexis, Patrick watching him with fond eyes. They do the dishes together, David playing music from his phone, various pop divas filling their small apartment. With sudsy hands, Patrick will pull David away from the sink, wrapping him up close to him and swaying them to the music, David shouting, “Don’t get soap on my Balmain!”

But he doesn’t pull away from Patrick, just carefully wipes his hands down and puts them back around his waist, tucking his head into Patrick’s neck and letting Patrick guide them.

They fall into bed together, David pressing himself tightly against Patrick, pressing kisses into his skin and telling him he loves him. David always manages to fall asleep first, lulled by Patrick’s finger scratching the back of his neck. And Patrick falls asleep with the image of David the last thing he sees before being pulled away.

\\\\\

Patrick meets the rest of the Roses on his fourth day at the store. All three of them come tumbling in, in the middle of arguing, their voices loud and sharp and Patrick finds himself cowering behind the register, his eyes wide and frightened.

“Ugh! All I’m saying is that it would be _nice_ to get a little more privacy! I need more space to expand my brand and stuff!” Alexis says with a huff.

“Alexis, we can’t give you another room as your office space,” Mr. Rose says. “Not with the increase of guests coming to the motel.”

“Yes, because of _me_ and my like super innovative marketing strategy! And it’s only until I like move away.” Alexis says stomping her foot.

“Dear, you must reign in your greed. We all have to make sacrifices for the betterment of the family,” Mrs. Rose says opening up a jar of hand cream that is not the tester and moisturizing her hands delicately.

“You asked dad for a new wig room!” Alexis exclaims with her hands in the air.

“They need to be temperature controlled, Alexis!” Mrs. Rose shouts back.

“This is not the proper environment for your shouting!” David says storming in from the back room. “Go outside and yell at each other! This is a place of business!”

“Sorry, son,” Mr. Rose says coming to stand by the cash register. “We’ll be out of your hair soon. Just wanted to pop in and see if you two could join us for dinner this weekend at the motel. An old fashioned Rose family barbecue.”

“Will this be happening there,” David asks gesturing towards his mother and sister.

“Ew, David, as if you’re not worse than us,” Alexis says flipping her hair off her shoulder. “Also, David, you still have a bunch of your things left in my room, and I’d really appreciate it if you could like clear everything out. My work slash live space isn’t like your own personal storage locker,” she says with her wrists limply dangling in front of her.

David growls at her, actually _growls_ and Patrick has to stifle a laugh behind his hand.

“We haven’t had a proper family dinner since the wedding,” Mr. Rose interjects. “And seeing as though it’s the last weekend of this beautiful weather, I say we take advantage of it. We don’t have much longer left all together might as well squeeze in a couple of more memories,” Mr. Rose finishes with a soft smile.

“Sure,” David says plucking off a piece of fuzz from his sweater. “Is there anything you would like us to bring to this barbecue?”

“Well, now that you mention it, we did enjoy that cabernet from the wedding,” Mr. Rose says walking to the fridge. “And you know that I’m a fan of the brie.”

“Oh and those mini toast things,” Alexis adds, plucking a package of mini garlic and truffle sea salt toast squares.

“David, it seems you need to replenish your stock of rose water toner,” Mrs. Rose’s voices rings out from the back wall. “I seem to have taken the last one.”

“Who’s going to pay for all of this?” David asks while frantically trying to wrangle in his family. Patrick watches with amusement as David darts from one Rose to the next, the four of them arguing with each other, a warm fondness growing deep within Patrick.

_It’s always like this for us, isn’t it? It’s always this crazy,_ Patrick thinks to himself, smiling at the chaos.

_I like this. I like this a lot._

\\\\\

The rest of the week passes by uneventfully, a steady trickle of customers walking in and out of the store with their Rose Apothecary totes. Their candle vendor Shannon stops by one day with their weekly order of soy candles, and drops a couple of new ones for the two of them to test out, David raving about the toasted cinnamon candle the moment Patrick lights it. She lingers around the store for a bit, chatting with David about the moisturizer while Patrick studies the books. Every now and then Patrick will look up from his laptop and watch David talk, a gentle smile on his lips as David very passionately educates Shannon on the proper way to dry your face and how, “rubbing your face with a towel after washing it is very incorrect”.

At noon, David leaves for a quick trip to Elmdale to pick up an order of knit hats when Stevie comes in. She sets down a bag of apples on the counter and leans up against it as Patrick waves a customer goodbye.

“Find everything okay?” Patrick asks with a teasing smile.

“I’d like to make a formal complaint about the arrangement of your fruits outside,” Stevie says. “It’s messy and visually unappealing.”

“I’ll make sure to relay your message to our creative director,” Patrick replies ringing her up.

“So, David is out for the day?” Stevie asks leaning against the counter.

“Just until four. He’s gone to pick up an order of hats in Elmdale,” Patrick replies handing her the bag of apples.

“Great, that gives us two hours to talk about him,” Stevie says putting her apples on the counter and cocks an eyebrow at him. “Have you spoken to him about the thing?”

“The thing?” Patrick asks confused.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure David knows something’s up, he’s been extra pushy. But I haven’t let anything slip, mainly because I want the satisfaction of seeing his face when you tell him,” Stevie says rearranging the lip balms.

“Right,” Patrick answers blankly, panic bubbling up inside of him.

“Are you okay?” Stevie asks furrowing her eyebrows together. “You look sweaty.”

“Just a little hot today,” Patrick answers quickly, wiping his forehead. “I’ll talk to him about um, the thing soon,” he says walking from behind the counter and grabbing a box of hand creams.

Stevie watches him with her eyes narrowed at him. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“What? No,” Patrick replies nervously.

_I don’t even have a first thought because I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about._

“Okay,” Stevie answers slowly. She continues to watch him as Patrick fumbles around with the hand cream.

“We should probably talk about how you’re going to tell him,” Stevie says leaning her hip against the counter.

“I was just thinking of taking him out to dinner and telling him over pasta,” Patrick lies, trying to keep his anxiety from bursting through his body.

“Yes, telling David over fettuccine alfredo that you’re thinking of leaving him to join the Peace Corps is a stellar plan.”

Patrick drops the face cream he was holding in his hands, the plastic clattering around his feet. “What!” Patrick sputters, hastily reaching down to pick up the jar. “I’m not leaving him!”

“No, but you’re up to something,” Stevie says crossing her arms. “What’s going on Patrick?”

Patrick wants to shrink away from her intense gaze, his heart rate spiking up. “N-nothing.”

“I know you, Brewer,” she says. “Tell me the truth.”

And suddenly the weight of the last two weeks becomes too much for him and Patrick blurts out, “What would you do if you woke up in a different life?”

Stevie raises and eyebrow at him. “Go back to sleep.”

“I’m serious,” Patrick says, putting down the box of hand creams and pulling at his fingers nervously. “What would you do?”

“I guess it depends on what kind of life it is? Am I happier in this life?” Stevie asks.

“Yes, you are,” Patrick responds, nodding his head.

“How did I get to this other life?”

“I have no idea. You just woke up in it.”

“Huh,” Stevie says regarding Patrick carefully. “What does this have to do with you and David?”

“Everything,” Patrick breathes out, leaning against the table and rubbing his temples.

Stevie walks over to him and leans against the table next to him. “You want to elaborate for me?”

Patrick looks up at Stevie and notices her eyes have softened and they’re open and ready to listen to him. So he tells her everything, about being engaged to Rachel and hating it and waking up in a stranger’s bed. He tells her about being sick and David taking care of him, falling for him so quickly, unable to stop himself. He tells her about how desolate his life was before David and Stevie and this town.

Stevie looks at him carefully. “You haven’t been drinking wine this morning, right?”

“No, no wine,” Patrick says shaking his head, his eyes red with his tears. “Just my limited grip on reality.”

“Just making sure,” Stevie replies before taking a deep breath. “So you’re here.”

“Yes.”

“From some alternate dimension.”

“Yes.”

“Then where’s Patrick?”

Patrick startles at her question. “What?”

“Where’s Patrick,” Stevie asks again calmly and the questions punches into Patrick’s gut.

She means the other Patrick, the Patrick that existed before he came in and hijacked his life. David’s Patrick.

“I-I don’t know,” Patrick replies quietly. “I don’t know anything, other than waking up in a different bed.”

Stevie sighs deeply and rubs her eyes with her fingers. “What do you think he’s doing?”

Patrick sucks in a harsh breath, David’s face filling his mind. Patrick knows the answer and the pain of it makes him nauseous. “Doing whatever he can to come back.”

Because if Patrick were in his situation, he would be doing the same thing.

“Oh God,” Patrick says, cradling his head with his hands. “Oh _God_ , what do I do?”

“We get you back where you came from. What do you remember before you came here?”

“Fighting with my fiancé,” Patrick says, his voice muffled by his hands. “I said some stupid shit about the wedding and we had a fight. She walked out.”

“What else?”

“I was sick. My throat was killing me so I brewed some tea,” Patrick says thinking back to that night, the taste of caramel and chocolate flooding his senses. “I drank tea,” he murmurs to himself again. “I drank tea that my mom gave me and I passed out in my bed and woke up in David’s. I think there was something going on with the tea.”

“Do you think you can get some now?” Stevie asks.

“I have to call my mom,” Patrick says reaching into his pocket. “It was tea that her new neighbor had given her. She said she was strange. Stevie, I think it’s the tea.”

“Great, so get the tea, drink some, and hopefully you’ll wake up back in your life,” Stevie says.

Patrick nods his head and looks through his contacts for his mom’s number. “You’re oddly calm about the fact that I just told you that I traveled from a different dimension.”

Stevie shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly. “You’re the most rational and practical person I know. There’s no way you could ever have come up with this shit if it weren’t true.”

He smiles at her and looks down at his phone, his gut twisting. Patrick’s thumb hovers over his mom’s name, his body hesitating. He doesn’t want to go back to his old life. He wants this one. He wants David.

Stevie places her hand over his, Patrick snapping his head up towards him. “I know. I’ve seen the way you look at him. But you don’t know their story, how hard they worked to get here, how they make each other better. How much he loves him.”

“What if he’s not there?” Patrick asks brokenly. “What if I can’t find him in my world?”

“He’ll be there,” Stevie says with conviction. “I think he’s waiting for you to find him.”

Patrick looks away, taking a deep breath through is nose. “What was the thing?” He asks, his voice rough.

Stevie gives him a sad smile. “Patrick wants to buy David a house.”

Patrick blinks at her before his mind is bombarded with images of David in a house. David in the kitchen sipping a glass of wine while Patrick cooks. David wrapped in blankets asleep on a couch in the living room. David in the bedroom, his eyes hot and sharp, his hand reaching out for Patrick to take.

Patrick squeezes his eyes shut and nods his head stiffly, letting out a rough breath. He presses his mom’s name on his phone.

“Mom? Have you gotten any new neighbors recently? Do they like tea?”

\\\\\

When David comes back to the store after his vendor run, Patrick greets him at the door with an almost desperate kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist and pulling him in close.

David responds enthusiastically, draping his arms around Patrick’s shoulders and smiling into the kiss. “I was only gone for two hours,” David says grinning when they pull apart.

“But I missed you,” Patrick murmurs in between their lips, kissing him again because he can’t not, because now he’s counting how many of David’s kisses he has left.

_Not enough,_ he thinks to himself miserably.

“Mm enough for you to get the box of knits from the car?” David asks with a teasing grin.

“Enough to take you to dinner tonight,” Patrick says, playing with the short hairs on the back of David’s neck. “A date.”

_My first and only date with you. Let me take you out so the world can see and be jealous._

David’s eyes sparkle. “Pizza?”

Patrick laughs and nods his head murmuring, “Pizza,” before pulling him back in for a hundred more kisses.

That night they head out to David’s favorite Italian bistro in Elmdale. He orders them mozzarella sticks and wine and they share a large pepperoni pizza, David’s eyes beautiful in the candlelight. It’s romantic and cliché and cheesy, but David looks beautiful and Patrick wants to give him everything.

David holds Patrick’s hand on the drive back home, rubbing his thumb across knuckles.

Patrick plans on going to his parent’s tomorrow under the guise of picking up some of his belongings he left there and homesickness. They’re excited to see him of course even though it’s only been a few weeks since the wedding. His mom mostly wants to talk about David on the drive back from Elmdale and how he’s doing. It gets to the point where Patrick has to shove the phone into David’s hands, David smirking at him triumphantly and gossiping with his mom with bright eyes and a dangerous grin.

_They love him. And he loves them._

His eyes keep darting to the clock, mentally counting down the hours he has left with David, dreading every time a second ticks away. He wants to remember this, just them, pretending that everything is okay and he’s where he’s meant to be.

David’s hand moves from his hand to rest on the top of his thigh, tracing the inner seam of Patrick’s pants. Patrick tenses up underneath David’s touch and feels his pants tightening, his breathing coming out rough.

When they get home, Patrick crowds David against the door the moment it’s closed, pushing his body close to him and pulling him in for a deep kiss, David smiling into it.

_I might never have this again_ , Patrick thinks to himself as he runs his tongue against David’s lower lip, David’s mouth falling open and Patrick pushing in.

_I’ll miss this. I’ll miss you._

David’s hands are running up and down his back until they settle on Patrick’s ass, pulling him hard into his groin and rubbing his erection into Patrick’s hip.

Patrick moans deep, ripping himself away from David’s mouth and leaning his head against David’s collarbone.

“David,” Patrick says, his voice ragged. “David.”

“I got you,” David says, walking them to the bed. “I got you.”

He sits Patrick down and gets down on his knees to take his shoes off, smiling up at him, running his fingers up and down Patrick’s ankles. He shivers underneath David’s touch and grabs his hands to pull him back up to kiss him.

When they pull away, they’re breathing heavily against each other, David watching him with a small smile on his face. “I’ll never get tired of that.”

“Of what?” Patrick asks, stilling his hands on David’s back.

“How you’re so you.”

Patrick looks into David’s eyes and feels the truth of him in his bones. Patrick doesn’t realize he’s crying until David is wiping away his tears, his eyebrows knitted together with concern.

“Patrick?”

Patrick stifles a sob and presses his face into David’s neck, kissing him there and holding him close. David’s arms wrap around him and Patrick lets himself be held.

“Are you okay?” David asks him gently.

“Yeah,” Patrick replies his voice raspy. “I just want to be here with you.”

David pulls away and cups his face. “You are.”

Patrick kisses him, soft and sure. They finish undressing and they get underneath the covers together, their bodies pressed together close. David pulls him in close, running his fingers up and down Patrick’s back, murmuring words of love and promises that can never be broken, whispering into his ear about how much he loves him, how beautiful he is, how happy he makes him.

David falls asleep first, his breath evening out as Patrick cards his fingers through his hair. He holds him tightly and whispers all of his favorite things about David into the silent night air, not wanting to count down so that he can stop time for just one more minute.

\\\\\

David pouts from the bed as Patrick packs a backpack of things. “Why can’t I come with you?”

“Because someone needs to look after the store,” Patrick replies with a small smile. It’s the next morning, earlier than David normally wakes up, but he woke up with Patrick’s alarm, making himself a cup of coffee and packing Patrick a light breakfast to eat while driving.

David crosses his arms. “This means I have to have dinner with my family by myself _and_ bring Stevie with me to Heather’s farm to try all the cheeses today. It’s not fair how she always gets her way.”

“Bring Alexis.”

David looks at him horrified. “Absolutely not! I’m not going to bring the woman Ted left Heather for to sample cheese! We barely got away with it the first time!”

“Of course,” Patrick murmurs to himself. “How could I forget?”

“Can you at least bring back some of your mom’s carrot cake? As a present for me?” David asks smiling up at him.

Patrick laughs, cupping his cheek with his hand. “Of course, anything for you.”

David leans into Patrick’s touch. “You’ll be back soon?”

Patrick nods his head, thinking to himself, _yes, your husband will be home soon,_ his eyes raking over David’s face, memorizing every detail, searing it into his mind. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

\\\\\

Patrick kisses David tenderly outside, cradling his face carefully with his hands. He leans his head against David’s forehead, counting to ten before he rips himself away and gets into the driver’s seat.

“Call me when you get there?” David asks, leaning his head into Patrick’s window.

“I will,” Patrick says nodding his head. He reaches up one more time and strokes his finger along David’s face and before Patrick can stop himself, he says, “I love you.” It should feel weird and foreign and unnatural to say that to this perfect stranger. But the words feel at home in his throat and Patrick latches onto that as the last seconds of his world with David Rose tick by.

David’s face blooms and Patrick wants to live in his light forever. “I love you, too.”

Patrick reverses out of the parking spot, his eyes watching David from the rear view mirror.

_Wait for me,_ Patrick thinks to himself.

\\\\\

Patrick makes it to his parent’s house by noon, his mom already out the door and rushing towards him.

“Hello, sweet boy,” she says kissing his cheek. “I’m so happy you’re here!”

“Hi mom,” Patrick says, hugging her tightly.

“Your father’s at the grocery store picking up some things for dinner. I wish David could have come with you, but I know someone has to be there to watch the store,” she says patting his cheek.

Patrick swallows the lump in his throat. “David sends his love.”

“I’ll have to call him later. I already have a carrot cake packed for you to take back to him.”

“He’ll love that,” Patrick replies warmly, tucking his mom’s hand into the crook of his arm. “Now tell me about your new neighbor?”

\\\\\

Her name is Elodie, Patrick learns, and she moved to the neighborhood only a month ago. Patrick’s mom tells him about how she watched movers bringing in the most peculiar items into the small house, a large taxidermy ostrich being one of them. But she’s incredibly kind, going house to house and giving everyone a basket of goodies.

“She asked about you when I mentioned that we had a son,” his mom says sipping her tea. “Asked if you were happy with your life. I told her that you were over the moon! Recently married to a dashing and charming young man. She looked so happy for us.”

Patrick smiles over his tea cup. “Do you have any of the goodies left?”

“Your father ate all of the shortbread biscuits,” she says with a playful roll of the eyes. “There are some gingersnaps left. And the candle she also gave us is in the living room on the mantle. She said it was lavender and honeysuckle. It smells wonderful.”

“Mind if I pop over and say hello?” Patrick asks putting his tea cup down.

“Oh that sounds nice! I’m sure she would love that,” his mom says patting his hand. “I believe Elodie is home right now. She usually spends the afternoon tending to her garden. She gave me some really great tips for the spring for when my tulips sprout.”

“I’ll head over the now and say hello,” Patrick says standing up from his chair. He drops a kiss to his mother’s cheek and walks out the front door and towards the small yellow house at the end of the street.

Everything on his block is the same. He sees the same neighbors he’s had since childhood tending to the homes, Jason Monroe’s basketball hoop still mounted high above his parent’s garage door, memories of Patrick shooting the ball flooding his head. Everything is the same, but he is so different now.

He gets lost in his thoughts when he hears someone call out his name. “Patrick!”

Patrick turns around and stops cold as he watches Rachel jogging towards him in workout gear, a huge smile on her face.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be visiting?” She asks, throwing her arms around him and pulling him for a big hug. “We spoke on the phone like two weeks ago!”

“Uh,” Patrick says dumbly, his body frozen.

Rachel lets go and smiles up at him. “Is David here?”

Patrick blinks down at her, shaking his head. “N-No, he’s back home, in Schitt’s Creek.”

“Bummer,” she says deflating. “The four of us could have had a double date.”

“The four of us?” Patrick asks confused.

“Yeah, you, me, David, and Josh,” she says with a grin.

“Josh,” Patrick repeats weakly. _Josh. Her ex-boyfriend from college Josh?_

“I could have used you to distract him while we all talked about something else other than the wedding,” Rachel says with a chuckle. “I love how hands on he is though. It makes me happy to know he’s so excited.”

Patrick looks at Rachel carefully and notices an obvious sparkle in her eyes. She’s smiling wider than he’s ever seen and she looks more relaxed, more happy. His eyes move down from his face to her left hand, a large diamond ring sparkling back at him.

“Oh, Rach,” Patrick says quietly.

“Oh shit,” Rachel says looking at her watch. “I have to get back. Josh and I have our cake tasting in thirty minutes.” Rachel reaches up and kisses Patrick on the cheek. “Text me later so we can catch up! We’ll be done around four!” She says while jogging backwards, smiling widely at him.

Patrick watches her go, his chest squeezing painfully.

She looks so happy, happier than she’s ever been with him.

“I love you, Rachel,” he whispers to himself.

In that moment Patrick’s phone buzzes and he reaches into his pocket and sees a text from David.

_Stevie ate all of the chive and sage goat cheese! She’s a nuisance and I demand that she be banned from the store! Also I miss you, call me when you can. Love you._

Patrick shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. He can’t call David. Because the moment he hears his voice, Patrick knows he’s going to get in his car and drive back to Schitt’s Creek.

He can’t do that. He needs to fix this and make his way home so that David’s Patrick can come back home too.

So he texts him back instead, his fingers shaking a little. _Tell Stevie she needs to write a full report on her review of the cheeses for us to look over and evaluate. I’ll call you later, I love you._

Patrick squares his shoulders and begins walking again to the small yellow house at the end of the street.

He stands in front of the door for a moment, counting to ten in his head before raising his fist and knocking three times. The woman who answers the door is not like anyone he expected.

She’s tiny, her hair bright white with a streak of red hair going down the middle. She’s wearing a long, flowy dress with flowers on it and she’s clutching a bouquet of flowers in her right hand.

“How can I help you?” she asks kindly.

“Hi,” Patrick breathes out. “My name is Patrick, Patrick Brewer. My parents live in the blue house over there and I thought I should come and say hello. They told me you’ve been very kind to them.”

She smiles up at him, her face wrinkling up with warmth. “They’ve been very kind to me as well.” She steps to the side and gestures for him to enter. “Why don’t you come in. I have a feeling there’s something you’d like to discuss.”

Patrick lets out the breath he’s been holding and nods his head stiffly, entering the small yellow house.

It smells like lavender and butter biscuits and feels warm and cozy. His mother was right, there are a lot of peculiar items in the home, the taxidermy ostrich staring at him with its beady little eyes. But it feels wonderful and exciting, an interesting story that has yet to be told.

“Would you like a cup of tea, Patrick?” Elodie asks walking to the stove.

“Yes please,” Patrick replies, sitting down at her kitchen table.

Patrick continues to look around and notices various glass jars with plants in them all over the kitchen on many shelves.

“Here you go,” Elodie says setting a small tea cup down in front of him.

Patrick suddenly feels unsure, staring down at his cup nervously, regretting saying yes to the tea when he hears Elodie chuckle from beside him. “It’s not the tea you’re looking for. Just some jasmine tea I got from the store.”

Patrick visibly relaxes and lifts the tea cup to his lips, taking a careful sip and letting the warmth spread through his body. “So, I guess you know why I’m here,” Patrick says nervously, putting the tea cup down.

Elodie nods at him, smiling gently. “You’re looking for answers to questions I have arisen for you.”

“Why me?” Patrick asks desperately.

“I don’t take drastic measures such as these if I didn’t think it were absolutely necessary,” Elodie says. “I can assure you, I gave you that tea because I felt like you needed it.”

“How was any of this possible?” Patrick asks.

Elodie gives him a mysterious smile. “Sometimes it’s better to accept things than to question it.”

“How am I supposed to accept any of this?” Patrick asks, raking his hand through his hair roughly. “None one it makes sense.”

“Are you so sure about that?” Elodie asks smiling wider at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you saying nothing about this life you’ve lived has made any sense?” Elodie asks taking a sip of her tea, her eyes twinkling over the rim.

Patrick sits back in his chair and it’s amazing how quickly his head is filled with the images of David.

He thinks about how easily he was able to weave David into his life, how simple it was to fall for a beautiful stranger with a personality so large it is impossible to describe. He thinks about their tiny apartment, their store, late nights with Stevie, wrapping his arms around his husband and feeling the strong beat of his heart lulling him to sleep every night.

His life has made more sense for the last two weeks than it’s ever had in his life. Patrick has felt the most like himself being with David, being love by him.

“So now what?” Patrick asks defeated. “What happens next?”

Elodie gives him a sad smile. “It seems you’ve found your answer. So now it is time to go back.”

Patrick rears back in shock, knowing that this was the only option, but the pain of the truth still searing through his body. “Go back?”

“This was only meant to be temporary, a taste of happiness so that you may search for it yourself,” Elodie says gently.

“So you brought me here? To this world? Because now that I have seen what I want, I need to give it up, because it’s not mine to keep,” Patrick says, frustration clear in his voice. “What about him? What about David?”

“David will wake back up with his husband, time reversed back to when you first woke up,” Elodie replies and the pain shoots straight through Patrick’s chest. “It will be as if nothing ever happened.”

Patrick looks away, his eyes shut tightly, tears gathering in the corners. “As if nothing ever happened.”

“This was not to hurt you, Patrick,” Elodie says softly. “This was to show you what you can have if you allow yourself to want it.”

Patrick looks away and squeezes his eyes tightly, feeling them beginning to sting with his tears. “Well it worked,” he says bitterly. “You showed me what I can have and I can’t have it. I can’t have him,” Patrick says choking back a sob. “I want him. I want him so much.”

Elodie looks at him sympathetically and stands up from her chair, reaching for a jar on the shelf.

“Let yourself want it, Patrick,” Elodie says scooping the contents of the jar into his teacup. “Let yourself deserve it.”

Patrick stares down into the cup watching the crushed up tea leaves swirling around. The scent of caramel and chocolate wafts up to his nose, taking over his senses.

“I can show you what you could have, not how to get it. But something tells me you’ll find a way,” Elodie says from beside him. “You have to want it.”

Patrick lifts the tea cup carefully, David’s face in his mind.

_I’ll find you._

Patrick takes a sip from the teacup and counts to ten. He counts to five before the world turns to black.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left a comment in the last chapter ❤️ A terrible week turned into something much more lovely reading all those kind words 😭😭😭

Patrick wakes up reaching for David, wanting to burrow his nose into the back of David’s neck and sleep forever. They need to open the store soon, a fresh shipment from their wool supplier coming in today and David promised him kisses if they were able to get it all sorted through by noon.

But his arms wrap around nothing, just cool air and quiet, and the memories of the last two weeks come flooding back.

_David._

Patrick bolts up, his eyes darting everywhere. He’s back in his apartment, cold and stark compared to the home he shared with David.

_David._

Patrick cradles his head in his hands, taking deep breaths through his nose. He begins counting to ten.

_David._

Patrick tips his head back and stares up at the ceiling, his mind going blank. Suddenly he hears the front door open and close and braces himself for what is to come, sitting up straighter in bed.

Rachel peaks her head into the bedroom cautiously, chewing on her bottom lip and guilt rushes through Patrick violently.

“Hey,” she says softly, walking into the room.

“Rachel,” Patrick croaks out. She pads into the room and sits down on the bed next to him, reaching for his hand. “Patrick, about last night-”

“I’m sorry,” Patrick blurts out. She startles and leans back a little, her eyebrows up to her hairline. Patrick sighs and squeezes her hand. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. It wasn’t right for me to do that.” Patrick takes a deep breath and continues, "I haven't been there for you like I should have been and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Rachel."

Rachel blinks at him for a moment before smiling gently at him, squeezing his hand back. “Thank you. I forgive you. There's a lot we need to talk about, but for now, I think we're okay,” she says and leans in to kiss his cheek. “Come on,” she says patting his shoulder. “We have a long day today.”

“What’s today?” Patrick asks confused.

“It’s the 4th, we have Tom and Kara’s wedding, remember? We need to be there by noon,” she replies standing up from the bed and walking to the closet.

The 4th. October 4th.

“Rachel,” Patrick says feeling a pit forming in his stomach.

“Hm?” She says, turning around and smiling beautifully at him.

_Wait for me._

“Nothing, I’ll hop in the shower first.”

\\\\\

The drive to the wedding venue takes them an hour because of some traffic on the freeway. They make it there at 12:15, hurrying to get to their seats, smiling and exchanging pleasantries with people they know.

It’s a beautiful ceremony, short and to the point, and when Patrick turns to Rachel when the happy couple exchange their first kiss in marriage, there are tears in her eyes and she’s smiling at him.

They eat subpar pasta and dry cake, Rachel making little comments about the decor.

She looks beautiful, all gentle smiles and kind eyes, and when she tips her head back to laugh at a joke the best man makes during his speech, Patrick feels fiercely protective of her, wanting nothing but the best for her. More laughter and happiness in her life.

Towards the end of the night when the music slows down, Patrick pulls her to the dance floor, her arms winding around his neck and his resting around her waist. It’s familiar, but so different, Patrick missing weight of David’s arms on his shoulders. He’s staring down at her, with a gentle smile on his lips, Rachel staring back up at him.

“Today was nice,” she says softly.

“Yeah, it was,” Patrick agrees, swaying them gently.

“I hate the flowers they chose.”

“They are very ugly.”

“Hm,” Rachel hums. “But it’s not our wedding.”

“No, it’s not,” Patrick agrees. Rachel rests her head on his shoulder, her thumb rubbing the back of his neck gently.

“Our wedding will be good,” Rachel says quietly and Patrick closes his eyes in pain.

He didn’t think he would do it now. While getting ready this morning, he told himself he would tell her tomorrow. But he can’t bring himself to draw out her pain any longer. He loves her, he wants the best for her.

Patrick feels his blood thumping in his veins. “Rach,” he says quietly. “Are you happy?”

“Of course I’m happy,” she murmurs against his shoulder.

“No,” Patrick says shaking his head. “Are you happy?”

Rachel looks up at him with a curious expression, her face pinched with confusion. But Patrick continues to smile down at her, rubbing his thumbs into her waist.

Her eyes search his face, trying to look for the answer to his question inside of him. But her face begins to softly crumble, the stress she’s been carrying beginning to crack through.

“No,” she whispers miserably, her shoulders beginning to shake. “No, I’m not.”

Patrick gathers her in his arms, tucking her head underneath her chin as she clutches onto his shirt. “Come on,” Patrick says gently. “Lets get out of here.”

He walks her back to the car, Rachel’s body trembling with tears. He opens up the passenger seat and guides her in, her cries now soft hiccups.

Patrick quickly gets in the driver’s side and turns towards her, rubbing her back.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” she cries. “What are we doing?”

“Holding on to each other,” Patrick answers softly. “Hoping everything turns out okay?”

Rachel sniffles and wipes her nose with the back of her hand, Patrick automatically reaching into the center console to give her a tissue. 

“When did you know?” Rachel asks wiping her nose with the tissue.

“Know what?”

“That you were unhappy.”

Patrick lets her question sink in, looking for the right thing to say. But the right thing to say isn’t the truth, so he tells her the truth. “I don’t think I was ever happy.”

“With me?” Rachel asks in a small voice.

“I love you,” Patrick says fiercely, taking her hand in his. “I’ve loved you since I was sixteen years old.”

“But you’re not happy with me,” she says, her voice broken.

“No,” Patrick says, shaking his head. “No I’m not. I’m sorry Rachel.”

Rachel looks down at their hands. “I was, in the beginning. I was so happy being with you. You were perfect and nice and handsome and I knew I wanted to be with you. But we kept breaking up and getting back together and it felt like some endless pattern we had to keep going.” She looks up at him, her eyes red-rimmed but strong. “I haven’t been happy with you for a long time too. I don’t know when, but you’re right, I was holding onto something that doesn’t exist anymore, something we had back when we were sixteen.”

Patrick nods and cups her face with his palm. “I love you, Rachel.”

“I love you, too,” she replies. “It’s going to be a bitch cancelling the flowers.”

Patrick laughs loudly, throwing his head back, his chest expanding with freedom. “Not as bad as telling our parents.”

“Oh, God,” Rachel groans, leaning back into her seat. “Can we just run away?”

Patrick chuckles and shakes his head. “Gotta face the music eventually.”

They’re both quiet in the car, the crickets outside taking up sound.

“Rachel,” Patrick says hesitantly. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“More surprises,” she says with a lazy grin. “Shoot.”

Patrick looks away from her, towards his lap as the words start to come up his throat. He counts to ten before he says, “I’m gay.”

He’s never said it out loud, barely even in his own head, but the moment the words leave his mouth, he feels his body unravel and let go.

Rachel is quiet and fear grips at Patrick’s heart. He’s about to start counting to ten when he hears a soft giggle. He turns to her sharply, watching as he covers her mouth with her hand.

“Rach?”

She continues to giggle until she’s laughing loudly, her head thrown back against the headrest.

“Okay, Rachel, it’s not that funny,” Patrick says annoyed.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says behind her hand, snickering. “I’m laughing because it makes sense.”

“Excuse me?” Patrick asks shocked.

“Yes,” Rachel says hiccuping. “I should have known the moment I saw you checking out Brad Morrison’s ass at your baseball game last year,” she says with a wide grin.

Patrick blinks at her and thinks back to that day. It was in April, he and some friends from college chose a Saturday for a friendly game of baseball. Brad Morrison, wanting to be funny, came dressed in his high school uniform, stretched tight over his body. He bent down to adjust his socks during warmups and a ball hit Patrick square in the shoulder as he was watching Brad bend down.

Patrick stares at her in shock before he’s overcome with giggles too, laughing along side Rachel and feeling right in his body.

\\\\\

They go home and watch a movie, falling asleep on the couch with her head on his chest. When they wake up the next morning, Patrick cooks them chocolate chip pancakes while Rachel begins the cancellations for their wedding.

“I called just in time to get everything back on my dress, thank God. They hadn’t put in the order yet,” Rachel says hanging up the phone and Patrick winces a bit. “You’re doing the flowers though,” Rachel says with a pointed look and Patrick raises his hands up in defense. “That’s fair, yup.”

“And then we tell our parents,” Rachel says playing with her engagement ring. Patrick put a plate of pancakes in front of her and sits down in the chair beside her. “Hey,” he says taking her hand. “We’ll do it together.”

“I’m not worried,” she replies. “They’ll be supportive. It just feels weird? Like we’ve done this before, breaking up, but in the back of my mind I knew we would get back together eventually. Only there’s no eventually this time. It’s real and it’s done,” she sighs out sadly.

Patrick squeezes her hand. “You’re still my best friend. I don’t want that to change.”

“I don’t want that to change either,” she says quietly. “Are you going to tell your parents?”

Patrick nods his head. “I am. But not until after we tell them the wedding is off, give them some time to work through that before I spring more surprises on them.”

Rachel nods her head and kisses his cheek. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Thank you for being okay,” Patrick replies.

“Of course I’m okay, Patrick,” Rachel says exasperatedly. “I’m just relieved you said something before it was too late.”

Patrick squeezes her hand and goes back to the stove, cooking up some more pancakes.

“So, what now?”

“Now,” Patrick says. “We start over.”

\\\\\

Their parents take the news surprisingly well, minimal tears shed. They’re sad, but relieved the two of them are handling the situation like adults, making it clear that their friendship comes first.

“We just want you to be happy,” his mom says, squeezing his hands tightly in hers. “I want you to be happy, Patrick.”

“I’m getting there,” he says squeezing back, giving his dad a thankful smile.

Rachel is shocked when he gives her the keys to the apartment. “What about you?”

“I’m moving,” Patrick says smiling at her.

“To where?” Rachel asks, holding the keys close to her chest.

“A little town four hours away,” Patrick replies, grinning at Rachel’s confusion.

“What about work?” Rachel asks, her face pinched with concern.

“I’m quitting. I have my resignation letter printed out and I’m going to hand it in tomorrow,” Patrick says.

Rachel looks at him carefully, her eyes bearing into his. “Do you have a job lined up in this mystery location?”

“Nope,” Patrick replies happily.

Rachel narrows her eyes at him before a grin begins to spread on her face. “Huh. Okay”

“You’re not worried?” Patrick asks.

“No,” Rachel replies honestly. “I’m really not. I think you’ll be okay.”

Patrick smiles at her and kisses her forehead. “I think so too.”

\\\\\

Patrick walks up to the little yellow house with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Elodie is outside in her front lawn tending to her flowers when she senses him behind her, turning around and smiling when she sees him. “Hello, there.”

“Hi,” Patrick says. “I’m Patrick Brewer. My parents live down the street in the blue house over there,” Patrick says pointing back. “They told me you gave them the goodie basket to give to me and I thought I’d come over and thank you in person,” he says showing her the bouquet.

“How sweet,” Elodie says kindly. “My name is Elodie, would you like a cup of tea?”

Patrick looks at her warily. “No tea for me, thank you.”

Elodie looks at him with a curious smile before it blooms wide. “Ah, I see. Well, why don’t you come in and we can chat while I find a nice vase for those flowers.”

“Sure,” Patrick says following her in. The inside of her house is a little different, the furniture arranged in a different configuration in comparison to the other house. But the ostrich is still there, looking at him menacingly as Patrick walks quickly by it.

“Take a seat, I know just the vase to put these in,” Elodie says taking the bouquet from him.

Patrick sits down at her kitchen table and looks around, the shelves of different tea leaves just the same.

“So, Patrick,” Elodie says, setting down a deep purple vase in the middle of the table. “Did you enjoy the tea?”

“The tea was nice,” Patrick answers carefully. “Very…enlightening.”

“Hm,” Elodie hums to herself, cutting open the plastic film with shears that’s wrapped around the bouquet and carefully taking out each flower, snipping off the ends. “It’s my special blend. I only give it to those who need it most.”

“And I needed it the most?” Patrick asks tiredly.

“You tell me,” Elodie replies, a twinkle in her eye.

Patrick sighs deeply, dropping all pretense. “Why me? Why do all of this?”

Elodie has a mysterious smile on her face as she continues to snip the flower stems. “Sometimes it’s better to accept things than to question it.”

Patrick sighs, the familiar words stirring up frustration inside of him. “I’m not the kind of person to not search for answers,” Patrick replies.

“Yes, but you’re the kind of person who will ignore the answers if it means you avoid its problems,” Elodie responds with a pointed look.

Patrick rears back from her in shock. “Excuse me?”

“You will sacrifice your happiness if it means others will have theirs. It may seem like a noble quality, but how can you provide happiness to others if you deny it from yourself?”

Patrick blinks at her. “How do you know this about me?”

“You are not difficult to read, my dear,” Elodie chuckles, putting the shears down and the standing up from her chair. “I have travelled the world and meet thousands of people, some incredibly difficult to read. But you, just one look at your photo on your parent’s mantle and I knew immediately. Which is why I provided your parents with an extra basket of treats to share with you.”

“Why was I the only one to get the tea?” Patrick asks curiously.

“Because you were the only one who needed to see the truth,” Elodie says filling up the vase with water.

“The truth?” Patrick asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

“The truth about yourself,” Elodie replies gently. “The truth you never would have given a chance to find.”

Patrick sits back in his chair heavily, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Does anyone really?” Elodie answers. “What is the first thing that comes to mind?”

“David,” Patrick says quickly. “I think I have to find David.”

Elodie smiles at him, gentle and kind. “Sounds like you do know what you’re doing. Now, how about a cookie?”

\\\\\

Patrick packs up his car a week later, his parents watching with worried expressions on their faces. They’ve been watching him with wary expressions ever since he came back home after speaking with Elodie over a cup of tea and ginger biscuits. He had a fierce look on his face every time he was on the phone or computer in preparation for his move. They didn’t ask questions, but their worry for their only son was obvious.

“Sweetheart, are you sure this is a good idea?” His mom asks, pulling at her fingers similar to how Patrick does when he’s feeling nervous.

“You know you can stay here with us for as long as you need to,” his dad says from next to her.

“I know, but there’s something I need to do, something I need to find,” Patrick says closing the trunk of his car.

“And this something is in that town?” His dad asks raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, it’s in Schitt’s Creek,” Patrick replies, the name lighting up inside of him.

“We just want what’s best for you,” his mom says stepping forward and cupping his cheek just like she used to when he was younger.

“I’m doing what’s best, I promise,” he replies gently. She nods up at him with a watery smile and reaches up to kiss his forehead. “Okay, my sweet boy.”

Patrick gives his parents one last hug good-bye and gets in his car. He grips the steering wheel tightly and counts to ten in his head before turning on the engine and driving out of the same town he’s lived in his whole life.

He sees his parents watch him go from the rearview mirror, a small smile on his lips. They love him, and they’ll always love him and that gives him some comfort as he begins his chase for David Rose. He’ll tell them when he finds him.

Patrick connects his phone to the bluetooth in his car, pressing play on the playlist he made last night in bed. Mariah Carey’s voice fills his car and he stares outward into the long stretch of highway in front of him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a wonderful week! Thank you again for the kudos and comments ❤️

Schitt’s Creek looks the same when Patrick finally drives into town. He drives past the motel, still rundown but full of hope. He passes by Bob’s Garage and Café Tropicale, still the same and a welcome sight.

Nothing has changed, but everything is different. Because standing in between the café and garage is what should have been Rose Apothecary, not an empty storefront. Patrick parks his car in front of the building and stares at it. It’s clear that the building has been abandoned for quite some time now, Patrick’s eyes raking over the cracked window and chipped paint.

He feels numb and is grateful for it. Because the devastating reality that David might not be here is too much to handle.

“Where are you,” Patrick whispers to himself. He sits in his car staring at the store until the sun goes down, until he begrudgingly starts his car and drives to Ray’s house, his heart in his throat.

 _Please,_ Patrick thinks to himself desperately. _Wait for me._

\\\\\

Patrick is parked in Ray’s driveway, staring out his windshield deep in thought.

 _“You lived with Ray for a while,”_ Stevie’s voice rings in his ears. Before he left, Patrick asked Stevie to tell him as much as she could about his life in Schitt’s Creek in hopes of using it to find David. _“You were working for him when David came in to file his incorporation papers. He didn’t like you very much to be honest, but David doesn’t like many people when he first meets them anyway..”_

So last week, Patrick looked up Ray’s phone number and gave him a call, asking if he knew of any rooms to rent as the town’s realtor. Turns out he had a free room in his home ready to be rented out within the week, offered at a discounted price if Patrick agreed to help Ray out consulting his many businesses. It was a small victory that flared some hope into Patrick’s fears.

Ray also mentioned that several businesses around the area were in need of a consultant, Patrick taking that information eagerly with a plan set in motion to reach out to them in hopes of garnering some extra income. No point in going starved while trying to woo the love of his life.

He didn’t want to run the risk of staying at the motel and running into David there. He was afraid that he might be over eager, come off too strong. But Patrick wonders if he should have rented a room there anyway because he’s unable to move on from the thought that David might not be here.

He closes his eyes and counts to ten, taking a deep breath through his nose.

_It’s late. Get some rest and start again tomorrow. I’ll find him._

It’s surreal that he’s here. It feels crazy and impulsive. But David’s face flashes in his mind and the heat that rushes through his body feels too real to ignore.

Patrick gets out of his car and walks up to the front door and knocks on it three times. He begins counting to ten. He gets to two when Ray swings the door open.

\\\\\

The room at Ray’s is quaint. It’s old and outdated and full of small porcelain figures, but it’s a room.

He sits on the bed after unpacking what little he has and looks around the room, imagining his other self living in the same space, working on his laptop at the desk, strumming his guitar on the armchair. He sees David, bundled up underneath the blankets, his black hair poking out, sleeping peacefully next to Patrick as he reads a book.

He needs a plan. Patrick rummages through his backpack for his notebook and opens up to a fresh page, jotting down what he needs to do in order to find David.

First of all, he needs answers. Why is the general store empty? Where is Rose Apothecary? Did it go under forcing David to close its doors or did it even exist at all? Is David Rose even here?

The fear he felt when he first saw the empty store grips at his heart again, but Patrick shakes it away and focuses back on the task at him.

He needs to find Stevie. Stevie will have answers and information about David. She helped him in the other universe, she has to help him here.

Lastly, Patrick needed to find a house. Ever since Stevie told him about “the thing”, Patrick has been unable to keep the thought out of his head.

A house. His own house. Somewhere for him to put down roots and really start living for himself.

_How can you provide happiness to others if you deny it from yourself?_

Patrick is done denying himself from getting what he wants. And he wants a house. Preferably one with David in it, but he’ll get there eventually. Hopefully.

Patrick closes his notebook and places it on the nightstand next to the bed and lies back into the pillows. He counts to eight when he falls asleep.

\\\\\

Patrick avoids driving by the motel, too afraid to confront what he’s looking for and instead begins his search of a house. It helps living with Ray who very enthusiastically shows him all of the current listings available in Schitt’s Creek.

He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, just waiting for his gut to tell him when it’s right. It shouldn’t be too difficult.

Ray shows him six houses and none of them are right.

The first one is much too small, the closet in the master bedroom making Patrick wince as he imagines David’s reaction to it. Not that this house is for David….but still. The next one is larger, but located near a busy road that Patrick knows David would grimace at. The third house shows some promise, until a chorus of cows mooing from the farm down the road interrupts his thoughts. And every house after that just don’t feel correct.

Patrick scrubs his face with his hand as Ray tells him about the alleged murder that happened in the basement fifty years ago below their feet with a cheerful smile and feels a pit of dread forming in his stomach.

“I think we’re good here, Ray,” Patrick gently interrupts him, cutting off Ray’s increasingly detailed description of the murder scene.

“Oh, of course Patrick. I’m not surprised, this listing has been on the market for quite some time. Not many people are comfortable stepping onto the property,” Ray says with a grin

Patrick gives him a tense smile and they walk out the front door together.

They drive back to Ray’s, Ray chatting his ear off about his favorite sushi restaurant in Elm Glen when he suddenly mentions the Roses.

“What?” Patrick asks cutting Ray off, glancing at him quickly before looking back at the road.

“The house was very nice, a two story tudor home with dark hard wood floors-”

“No,” Patrick says. “The family who bought the house? Who bought the house?”

“Oh, the Roses,” Ray answers easily. “I’m sure you’ve heard about them. Johnny Rose used to own the Rose Video empire, incredibly wealthy people until they lost all their fortune due to a crooked business manager. Moved to the town about three years ago. They actually used to live in the motel up until recently.”

“So they live in Elmdale?” Patrick asks, his hands tightening on the steering wheel, trying to keep his voice even.

“No, they almost bought that house over in Elmdale. Mr. Rose was able to secure a lucrative deal to franchise the motel so they were able to afford it, but then Mrs. Rose was offered a role in Hollywood! They live out in Los Angeles now.”

Patrick swallows hard and asks, “W-what about the kids? I know they have two kids.”

“Oh yes,” Ray says nodding his head. “Alexis moved away a couple of weeks ago, she’s in New York City right now I believe. She’s actually going to help me formulate a marketing strategy for my newest business: customized pet homes.”

“G-good,” Patrick replies, the questions he’s dying to ask on the tip of his tongue.

“And their son David still lives here in Schitt’s Creek,” Ray says and the tension that’s been coiling through Patrick’s body unravels.

“He’s here?” Patrick says to himself, taking a shuddering breath through his mouth.

“Yes, in contrast to his family, David has kept mainly to himself. I believe he works at a shop in Elmdale? But he still lives in town. An interesting family,” Ray concludes before talking about the history of Schitt’s Creek and its founders. But Patrick tunes him out and instead focuses on David.

_David has kept mainly to himself. I believe he works at a shop in Elmdale. David still lives here in Schitt’s Creek._

David is no longer living at the motel which still complicates Patrick’s search for him, but he knows more now than he did this morning and he takes comfort in that, even just for a little bit.

He turns the corner of Ray’s street, thinking to himself he might grab some dinner at the café in hopes of coercing some answers from Twyla, when Ray says, “Oh! I have one more listing that I forgot to mention!”

“Ray, I think I’m wiped out from looking at all the houses today,” Patrick replies tiredly.

“It’s just ten minutes from here, I think it’s very promising and checks off most of the things you’re looking for,” Ray says and Patrick sighs, driving past Ray’s house and turning at his direction.

It’s a two story farmhouse with white panelling, black shutters and a wide front porch. The kitchen needs to be gutted and there’s a lot of overgrown grass, but it’s on a big plot of land with nice original hardwood floors and a wood burning fireplace.

One of the front windows is cracked and there’s a plank of wood missing from the porch. The house needs a lot of work, but when Ray leaves to take a phone call outside, Patrick stands in the living room, light streaming in from all the windows, and he feels like he’s home. He can see the paint cans, the furniture, the people. A future.

“It’s in pretty rough shape,” Ray says as Patrick walks around the large master bedroom. “But the foundation is still solid and the owner’s are more than willing to negotiate the price.”

“It’s good,” Patrick replies.

“Would you like to come back tomorrow to take another look?” Ray asks.

“Yes,” Patrick says. “But you can also start drawing up the paperwork. I’ll take it.”

\\\\\

Patrick lays in bed later that night, his arms pillowing his head as he thinks about the house he’s about to purchase.

It felt right the moment he walked in, something inside of him aligning together and Patrick thinks it’s his two halves meeting together in sync for the first time. Whether or not this is the same house the other Patrick bought for David doesn’t matter, because it feels right in his world.

He’s already started a spreadsheet of the repairs needed and how much it’s going to cost him. He has a decent amount of savings, but anything that doesn’t require major construction will have to be done by him since he took a hit from his wedding that never was. He painted houses during the summer when he was in high school, but his knees aren’t the same and there’s a twinge in his back when he thinks about it. But he’s excited. This is the beginning of something new and in a way something old.

Patrick turns off the lamp on his side table and settles into bed, counting to four when David’s face finally appears in his dreams.

\\\\\

Patrick begins to settle into his new life in Schitt’s Creek by diving into work at Ray’s and immediately recognizes the advantages of living in a small town: everyone talks. In the few short days since arriving, he’s learned that the Roses left quite the mark in this little town, many of the townspeople speaking about them rather fondly. Mrs. Rose was a part of the town council for a few years before her acting career whisked her away to Hollywood, Mr. Rose helped Stevie revitalize the town’s motel and are in the beginning stages of franchising it across North America, and Alexis is currently in New York City working with the PR of an up and coming streaming service. All of the Roses track with their alternate lives. All of them, except for David.

Although he still resides in town, he’s mostly kept to himself, living a much more quiet life in comparison to the rest of his family. Not many people really know what David Rose will do next.

He’s also the only Rose who is currently living in the Greater Elm Area with his parents in Los Angeles and Alexis in NYC. It seems the only person he really has in town is Stevie.

He’s eating his pancakes at the counter when Stevie walks into the café, messenger bag slung over her shoulder. Patrick chokes around his fork, reaching for napkins to dab away the mess from his mouth. He’s sitting on the far end of the counter, furthest away from the door, Stevie walking up to Twyla with a small wave.

“Hi Stevie,” Twyla says approaching her with a plastic bag. “Here’s your order.”

“Thanks Twyla,” Stevie replies, taking the bag from her hands. “Did you include extra maple syrup?”

“Yup, made sure to double check so we didn’t get a repeat of last time,” Twyla says with a sunny smile and Stevie nods her head while rolling her eyes. “Maybe I should just buy a bottle off of you and keep it at the motel.”

“We’re getting our shipment today, but I just opened up our last bottle! It should be floating around here somewhere,” Twyla says looking around the café.

Patrick having been eavesdropping on their conversation as subtly as he could, turns his gaze to the maple syrup bottle to his right, just opened and barely used.

“Um, I have it here,” Patrick says picking up the bottle.

“Oh, thanks!” Twyla says walking over to him and taking the bottle from him. “No need to pay for it, Stevie. It’s on the house.”

“Thanks,” Stevie replies, her eyes on Patrick. He swallows thickly and tries his best to keep his face neutral and unmoving, even though it feels as though his chest is about to cave in. He’s about to introduce himself when Stevie looks away and says, “Bye Twyla,” and is out the door before Patrick can say anything.

He watches her leave dumbly, cursing himself from missing out on his chance and finishes his breakfast with a pout on his face.

He walks back to Ray’s house while trying to formulate a plan on how to talk to Stevie when he notices a large van in the driveway, the words, “Hansel’s Fumigation” written on the side in big, blue lettering. Ray is standing out on the lawn with another man, laughing and chatting together.

“Uh, hi Ray,” Patrick says walking up to them.

“Patrick! So glad you’re here!” Ray says. “This is Hans Hansel, he’s the town’s fumigator.”

The gruff man nods at him with a smile. “Nice to meet you,” Patrick says politely. “I’m just going to head inside-”

“Yes, best you get your things now,” Ray says nodding his head.

“I’m sorry, what?” Patrick asks confused.

“Oh, Hans will be fumigating the house starting today! Best you get your things now rather than later. And by later I mean in two days because we won’t be allowed back in until then,” Ray says with a smile.

“Wait, what? Two days?” Patrick asks surprised. “Where are we going to be for two days?”

“Oh, I’ve already contacted a friend in town who has very generously offered up their guest house for us to use until the house is done. They’re very nice, as is their guest house!” Ray says jovially.

“A little notice would have been nice Ray,” Patrick says weakly, rubbing a hand on his face.

“Did I not mention it to you? Well, lucky you came home quickly from the café then! Or else we would have already started!” Ray says with a laugh, Hans joining in as well.

Patrick looks between them wildly, his head pounding with a headache. He takes a deep breath through his nose and counts to ten. “Okay, I’ll just head in and pack up all my stuff,” Patrick says, walking quickly to the house.

“Great, and then we can head to Jeremiah and Judith’s house!” Ray calls out. Patrick has one foot in the door before the idea strikes him and he turns around suddenly.

“Um, actually Ray? I think I’m going to stay somewhere else,” Patrick says.

“Where will you be staying?”

\\\\\

Patrick stands outside the motel office, pulling at his fingers. His suitcase is next to him, packed haphazardly, his guitar case clutched tightly in his hand. He’s been standing outside for five minutes, trying to muster up the courage to go inside and ask for a room, just like any other normal motel guest would do.

“Get it together, Brewer,” Patrick whispers to himself, taking a deep breath and opening the door.

Stevie is at the counter shuffling through papers when her head snaps up at the sound of the bell above the door. Her eyes snap to Patrick, passive and nonchalant, and with the quirk of an eyebrow, she asks, “How can I help you?”

“I um,” Patrick says walking forward with his things. “I’d like a room please.”

“Sure,” Stevie says, turning to her computer and typing into the computer. “Name?”

“Patrick Brewer,” Patrick says, putting his guitar down and resting his hands on the counter.

“And how many day will you be staying with us, Patrick?” Stevie asks, not looking at him and continuing to type.

“Two days please,” Patrick replies.

“Two days,” Stevie repeats under her breath. “I’m going to need a card to put down for the room.”

“Sure,” Patrick says, reaching into his jeans and taking out his wallet. He hands Stevie his credit card and she continues to type, the clacking keyboard as the only sound in the room.

“Okay, Patrick, you are all set,” Stevie says handing him back his card. “Room 8.”

Patrick’s hand freezes as he blinks dumbly at her. “Room 8?”

“Yes, is that a problem?” Stevie asks confused.

“ _His parents were in room 7 and he and Alexis shared room 8 together before you guys got married,” Stevie tells him. “He complained about it a lot, but it was obvious that he actually loved being so close to her. They never had that before.”_

“No! No, room 8 is great!” Patrick says quickly, coughing to himself awkwardly. “That’s fine.”

“Okay,” Stevie says slowly. “If there’s anything else you need, please let me know.”

_Can you tell me where your best friend is so I can make him fall in love with me?_

“Thank you, Stevie,” Patrick says kindly and perhaps a little too fondly because Stevie raises an eyebrow at him. “Um, you’re welcome?”

Patrick leaves the room quickly, clutching onto his things as he walks to room 8. He’s never actually stepped inside, but he knows that this used to be David’s room when he was living at the motel.

He unlocks the door and slowly pushes the door open, holding his breath.

The room is nice. The carpeting looks worn, but it doesn’t look dirty, as if it’s been recently cleaned. The furniture is outdated, but the sheets look fresh. It’s a regular, roadside motel room.

Patrick rolls in his suitcase and sets his guitar case down, sitting on the twin bed closest to the door and taking a deep breath.

He feels the need to recalibrate, to re-evaluate his situation.

He’s made so many drastic decisions that he feels tired and winded, all these decisions based on an alternate reality that he lived for only two weeks. His body longs for David, but is that really the best thing for him? He’s happy to have found himself enough to recognize his relationship with Rachel wasn’t what he wanted, glad to have a left a job that did nothing but make his life stressful. Shouldn’t that be enough?

Maybe he should pause on chasing David. Or maybe he shouldn’t chase him at all.

He scrubs his face with his hands, counting to ten before pushing himself up off the bed and heading to the bathroom. A shower sounds like a good idea right now. But as he walks into the bathroom, he sees no towels on the rack and groans to himself.

Grabbing his room key, Patrick walks back to the office to ask for towels. He walks in, meeting his eye’s with Stevie’s at the front desk when a voice pierces through the air.

“Is there more maple syrup?”

Patrick snaps his head to the left and there sitting on the couch is the objects of his affections, balancing a styrofoam container of waffles on his knees, dark eyebrows knitted together and a frown on his face.

_Nope. I’m definitely chasing you._


	7. Chapter 7

David Rose looks the same. His hair is still perfectly coiffed. His clothing looks expensive and immaculate and chic and abstract. His eyebrows are thick and dark and he still has a sharply chiseled jaw with precisely cut facial hair. Patrick knows that jaw. He’s pressed kisses into it in the morning, nuzzling his face into his stubble when he used to wake up with David in his arms.

He takes a sharp breath, clenching his fists tightly, overwhelmed from just being in David’s presence, wanting to reach out so badly.

But there is something different about this David. Something feels off.

His feet are propped up on the coffee table in front of him, his knees drawn up as he carefully balances his waffles on them. His arms are folded close into his body and there’s a deep frown on his face.

He seems smaller. Quiet. Closed off.

“Can I help you with something?” Stevie asks Patrick, ignoring David.

“Uh, yeah,” Patrick says looking away from David and clearing his throat. “I was hoping you could give me a towel? My room didn’t come with any.”

“Oh,” Stevie says surprised. “Yeah, let me get one for you. Sorry about that,” she says, standing up from her chair and walking up the stairs.

An awkward silence settles around Patrick as he and David are left alone in the room. David is picking at his waffles, his eyes downcast. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Patrick tries to will his heart to slow down, his skin itching from underneath, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet. He sneaks a glance at David again before turning away from him, unable to look at him without feeling his heart squeezing tightly. It’s then when his eyes sees the maple syrup bottle perched on the front desk.

Patrick takes it and hands it over to David. “Maple syrup?”

David’s head snaps up, looking from the bottle to Patrick’s eyes and he feels his breath rush out of him as David’s eyes pierce through him.

He’s still so beautiful and Patrick aches for him.

“Thanks,” David says taking the bottle from Patrick’s hand.

“You can never have too much,” Patrick says with a small smile. David hums in agreement as he pours the syrup all over his waffles. “Agreed, although I wouldn’t need this much if the café didn’t feel the need to char my waffles, but you make do.”

“I think it’s to provide their customers with a well-rounded flavor profile,” Patrick replies back with a smile.

“Yes because singed pieces of waffle is definitely a part of my preferred flavor profile,” David says deadpanned.

“Well I’m sure the café would deeply appreciate it if you lent a hand in making them yourself,” Patrick harps back and David raises his head in shock. For a moment Patrick thinks he might have stepped too far, but then he sees it. Indignation, incredulity, annoyance and the humor. He sees the tiniest spark in David’s eyes, a twitch in his lips and feels everything beginning to unravel.

_There you are. I found you._

“I’m Patrick Brewer,” he says extending his hand out to David.

“David, David Rose,” David says, taking Patrick’s hand in his. They’re soft, but strong and warm and Patrick feels hot all over.

“David Rose,” Patrick repeats gently with a smile and knows he’s found home.

“Sorry about that, Patrick,” Stevie says coming down the stairs with a stack of towels in her hands. David lets go of Patrick’s hand quickly and he misses the warmth immediately.

“It’s no problem at all,” Patrick says kindly, taking the stack from her hands. “Thanks.”

“Anything else I can do for you?” Stevie asks, her eyes subtly darting between him and David.

“No, no, that’s it for me. Thank you Stevie,” Patrick says, turning his head to look back at David. “It was nice meeting you, David,” Patrick says with a grin.

“Likewise,” David replies with an eyebrow quirked up.

On the way back to his room, Patrick tries his very best not to think about how his hands are shaking or how everything around him looks a little brighter.

\\\\\

“Did you sleep well last night?” Ray asks taking a sip of his coffee over breakfast the next day. They’re at the café for a morning meeting, papers laid out in between them and their plates of waffles.

“Yeah, the motel is nice,” Patrick says taking a bite of his waffles, wincing and then reaching for the bottle of maple syrup.

“Yes, Stevie and Mr. Rose have been working hard to update the motel this past year. We’ve seen a lot more visitors in town. But most people spend their time over in Elmdale. More shopping,” Ray says jotting into his notes.

“I noticed the empty storefront across the street,” Patrick says casually, or at least trying to be. “No plans to use it?”

“Not yet,” Ray replies. “Almost two years ago we almost had a Christmas World take over though! That definitely would have garnered more foot traffic here.”

“A Christmas World?” Patrick asks weakly.

“Yes, they showed some interest in moving a franchise here. But they pulled back on their offer last minute and the shop has been empty ever since.”

“I see,” Patrick murmurs. “Seems like a waste to keep it empty.”

“No one wants to take on the burden of opening up a store after the last general store closed down. Although,” Ray says leaning in close as if to let Patrick in on a secret. “I did hear a rumor that David Rose thought about leasing the space.”

“He did?” Patrick breathes out, leaning in close too. “What happened?”

“No one knows. From what I heard, David secured some funds from his last employer and was planning on opening up his own business. But before it really got any traction, he ended up working at a shop in Elmdale instead. He’s still currently working there I believe.”

“Which shop?” Patrick asks.

“I forget what it’s called, but it sells skin care products I believe. And some candles? I’m not entirely sure,” Ray replies.

Patrick leans back and thinks, trying to grasp at any reason as to why David decided to forgo opening the general store. There are a number of possibilities, David not having enough start up money, not being able to secure enough contracts with vendors, the lease of the building being too high.

“I have a couple of appointments today,” Ray says breaking Patrick out of his thoughts. “All of them are outdoor photoshoots. I could use someone holding up the light reflector.”

“Sorry Ray,” Patrick says shaking his head. “I need to go to Elmdale today.”

\\\\\

It’s not difficult to find the store Ray described because there is only one shop in all of Elmdale that sells skin care products much to Patrick’s relief. Through the large glass window, Patrick can see David stocking the shelves, his broad shoulders covered in a black sweater popping out against the light blue walls of the store.

Patrick stalls outside the door for a moment before heading inside, a tinkle above his head echoing pleasantly.

David turns around from where he’s restocking and his eyebrows raise to his hairline when he sees Patrick. “Um, hi?”

“Hi,” Patrick breathes out, sticking his hands into his pockets.

“Can I help you find something?” David asks, placing the cardboard box on the counter.

“Just looking around,” Patrick replies sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

David nods his head and moves around the counter. “Let me know if you need any help.”

Patrick walks around the space slowly, lifting up products, pretending to read the label and then placing them precisely back in its place. He watches David from the corner of his eye, watching him scan down a list on his clipboard.

After five minutes of browsing, Patrick picks up a random bottle and heads to the cash register, David’s head raising upwards. “Find what you need?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Patrick says, placing the bottle down.

David picks it up and his eyebrows knit together. “No, this isn’t what you need.”

“What?” Patrick asks with a confused grin.

“This won’t do anything for your skin type,” David says coming around the counter. “You’ll end up drying out your skin which looks dry enough.”

“It’s not that bad,” Patrick murmurs and David tsks, placing the bottle back and picking up a different one.

“To be completely honest, the store doesn’t carry the best products, lots of generic, mass produced bullshit. but this will do for now,” David says ringing him up. “Don’t tell my manager I said that,” he adds quickly.

Patrick digs into his pocket to take out his wallet. “Your judgmental opinions are safe with me.”

“I am actively choosing to ignore that because you are a paying customer,” David says taking Patrick’s card and swiping it.

“Sure, David,” Patrick says a little too fondly and David looks up at him with confusion. Patrick clears his throat and takes his card back. “So if these products are far inferior for your tastes, what are you doing here selling them?”

“Well I have this thing called rent,” David replies. “And as much as I want to throw everything in this store into an incinerator, I do enjoy my apartment somewhat.”

“What would you change?” Patrick asks as David puts his purchase into a paper bag.

“Change what?” David asks, pushing the bag to Patrick.

“About the store,” Patrick says gesturing around.

David’s eyebrow raise up with surprise before settling back down into deep thought. “Well, everything to be honest.”

“Like what?” Patrick pushes, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.

David looks around and begins to list things off. “Well for starters, the configuration of the furniture in here is appalling. There’s no directional flow. But my manager won’t let me rearrange anything. Also the color scheme in here doesn’t make sense? The owner wanted it to feel ‘beachy’ in here but that’s doesn’t make sense in the context of selling skincare. Also all the products that we carry in the store are low-end with high markups. I sold this woman a bottle of toner for $55 and almost apologized for it,” David says with a grimace.

Patrick whistles low, nodding his head. “What do you see?”

“For the store?” David asks.

“For your own store,” Patrick says. “If you were opening up a store, what would you do?”

David blinks at him for a moment, opening his mouth and closing it several times. “I, I don’t really have a vision.”

“You must have some idea. Haven’t you ever wanted to open up your own business?” Patrick pushes, wanting, no, _needing_ the hope that Rose Apothecary was still somewhere inside of David. He feels like he’s been sleepwalking the last few days, the memories of his alternate life sometimes overlapping with his real life leaving him disoriented. And now here he is, standing in front of the man who turned his life inside out and nearly shaking with anticipation that he might finally have a grasp of getting what he came searching for.

But instead David tenses up and shakes his head. “No, nope, no idea. Hasn’t even crossed my mind.”

Patrick deflates, lowering his head and shoving his hands back into his pockets. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” David says awkwardly and clears his throat. “So, will that be all?” David asks, pushing the paper bag to Patrick.

Patrick takes the bag and looks up at David. “For now,” he says and walks out of the store, the little shop bell ringing behind him.

\\\\\

Patrick is staring down at the papers agreeing on the purchase of the two story farm house a week later in Ray’s dining room. He had a flash of reluctance a couple of days ago, nearly backing away from everything and driving back home to his parent’s when he walked in on David singing Mariah Carey at the store in Elmdale, his back towards Patrick, his shoulders shimmying back and forth to _Emotions_ , the broom handle as his microphone. And the look David gave him when he turned around and saw Patrick smiling at him? That alone threw away every hesitation he felt.

Within the last week, he’s visited the small skincare shop at least four times, always under the guise of an innocent visit.

_“Just looking for a gift for my mother.”_

_“I read online that moisturizer is a myth. What do you think?”_

_“I accidentally spilled my bottle last night and need a new one.”_

_“I had a consultation with a business a few doors down and thought I might pop in and say hi.”_

He would tease David, riling him up and watching his facial expressions, feeling comfort in knowing that in every universe, David Rose will always be David Rose. And every visit, Patrick made sure to catalogue every half smile David threw his way, delighting in the fact that they increased with every visit.

He was home in the smile that was always tucked into his cheek whenever Patrick was near now. And Patrick made sure to be near David as much as he could.

“So, Patrick,” Ray says as he shuffles papers around. “Are you ready to be a homeowner?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick answers truthfully. “But I’m excited.”

“Glad to hear that!” Ray says happily. “And I must say you got quite the deal on the property. Of course the home needs a lot of repairs and once you add up the cost for materials and labor, it won’t feel like much of a bargain anymore.”

“Thanks Ray,” Patrick says dryly.

“So, just sign here, here and here and the house is yours!” Ray says pointing at the contract.

Patrick stares down at for a moment, counting to three before lifting up his hand and signing his name in all the indicated spots.

“Congratulations Patrick! You are the proud owner of a somewhat inhabitable house!” Ray says extending his hand out to Patrick.

Patrick shakes Ray’s hand and grins. “Here’s to new beginnings.”

\\\\\

Ray allows Patrick to continue to rent a room from him until most of the renovations are completed because Ray wasn’t incorrect when he said the house was only somewhat inhabitable.

The building inspector from the week before said the foundation of the house was solid and that there wasn’t any significant damage to the home despite being empty for several months. However, the plumbing and gas lines needed to be repaired on top of the obvious cosmetic fixes.

But the great thing about living in a small town now meant that word travelled quickly and despite the fact that Patrick has only been living in Schitt’s Creek for a couple of few weeks now, it seemed like many people are willing to lend a helping hand.

Ray got Patrick in contact with the town’s contractor, a woman named Ronnie who looked unimpressed when Patrick introduced himself to her. He is wary of her, but she agrees to help him with the gas and water lines for a deal so he doesn’t mind having her call him a thumb under her breath every now and then. The town’s mechanic, a peculiar man named Bob with an even more peculiar jog tells him he has nephews who paint houses one day at the cafe when he runs in to get lunch. Twyla also mentions that the cousin of her ex-stepdad’s step brother is an electrician. She hands him their phone number that she thinks belong to said cousin as Patrick looks at it cautiously. Thankfully it ends up being the number of an actual licensed electrician that agrees to help Patrick.

Stevie offers him cleaning supplies from the motel’s overstock if he needs it, Patrick feeling overwhelmingly touched by her kind gesture despite the scowl on her face when he says so.

And even the town’s mayor offers to help Patrick. Although, Patrick isn’t sure exactly what Roland Schitt can help with. But he appreciates the offer nonetheless.

He still needs make most of the repairs on his own to keep within his budget, but knowing that a town that barely knows him is so willing to come together to help him makes Patrick feel like he can do it all.

And of course, there’s David.

“I’ve been told I have an eye for design,” David says during one of Patrick’s visits. He’s restocking the shelves, Patrick leaning against the counter and reading the label on a bottle of hand cream. Patrick really did have a business consultation at one of the stores in Elmdale and decided to use his lunch hour to talk to David at the store.

“Do you?” Patrick asks with a grin. “So I’m guessing it was your idea to mount the orange wooden seagulls on the wall,” Patrick says pointing towards the offending sculptures.

David looks at the seagulls with disgust. “Mary found them at the flea market last week. Said that it fits in with the ambiance,” David says with a frown.

“She’s not wrong, I really do feel like I’m at the beach,” Patrick says teasingly and David rolls his eyes.

“The last beach I went to was in Antigua and I made sure no seagulls were within my vicinity,” David says with a sniff. “But I mean it. I’m good at interior design so if you need any help decorating your house,” David says waving his hand nonchalantly, not looking at Patrick and instead focused on restocking jars on the shelf. “I’m happy to help.”

Patrick watches David continue to move the jars around until they’re perfectly aligned, labels facing outward, his eyes purposefully avoiding Patrick’s.

Patrick bites his lip as he tries his best to keep his excitement from bubbling over. “Uh, y-yeah,” Patrick says, clearing his throat. “I-I wouldn’t be opposed, to that.”

David finally turns towards him and gives him the half smile that Patrick has grown to love. “Okay,” he says softly. “Let me know if you ever need help.”

Patrick nods his head and grins at him, feeling happy. Feeling like he’s finally making something here.


	8. Chapter 8

The first two weeks of renovations are difficult. As Ronnie and her crew begin diving into fixing the gas and water lines, it’s discovered that they need to be completely replaced, forcing Patrick to do most of the interior painting on his own and leaving just the outside to Bob’s nephews. And due to a leak from the outdated plumbing, the ceiling in the living needs to be repaired before Patrick can start painting in there. Not to mention how much it’s going to cost him to buy new appliances and furniture. He’s been counting in his head a lot.

As the costs are beginning to add up quickly, Patrick finds himself in the booth of the café nursing a hot tea after a long day at the house with his eyes closed when he hears someone sit across from him.

“Roland, I really appreciate the gesture, but I really don’t need your extra buckets of ‘pistachio’ paint,” Patrick says tiredly.

“Um, first of all, I’m insulted that you think I’m Roland,” David says and Patrick’s eyes fly open. “And second of all, I would have to agree with your choice to decline Roland’s generous offer,” David says crinkling his nose.

Patrick smiles and sets his mug down, feeling the tension in his body coil away at the sound of David’s voice. “Hi.”

“Hi,” David says with a smirk. “Enjoying your evening?”

“I am now,” Patrick says with a grin and his grin widens when David looks away blushing.

Patrick realizes in that moment that this is the first time he’s seen David in almost a week, busy fulfilling his duties with Ray and then spending any free time working on repairs.

“I hear your house is coming along nicely,” David says picking at the chipped formica table.

Patrick grimaces and takes a deep sip of his tea. “It hasn’t been ideal,” he murmurs.

“All projects start off rough before things start falling into place,” David says.

“I might be able to speed things up if I had some extra hands,” Patrick replies with a smile. “Any experience painting?”

“Only with oils on freshly stretched canvas,” David replies breezily. “When you get to the main festivities of picking out the furnishings, that’s when you can give me a call.”

“I need your number to do that,” Patrick says and David looks at him with slightly surprised but impressed look.

“Well then,” he says and lays his hand out on the table, palm up. “Give it here.”

Patrick reaches into his pocket and hands David his phone, quickly pulling his hands back so that David doesn’t have time to notice that they’re shaking.

David quickly taps in his number and passes the phone back to Patrick. “Now you have no excuses not to contact the only person in this town who has taste.”

Patrick smiles at him. “I thought you were going to give me your number, David.”

David rolls his eyes and stands up from the booth, smoothing down his sweater. “And for that I will not be giving you the friends and family discount off my consultation fee.”

“We’re friends?” Patrick asks, delightfully watching David’s face twist.

“I don’t know yet,” he murmurs back and his lips curl upwards again and he turns around to walk to the counter where Twyla is waiting for him with a to-go bag. But before he gets too far, David turns back around, playing with the silver rings on his fingers.

“I um,” David says looking around uncomfortably. “Remember when you asked me if I ever wanted to open up my own business?”

“Yeah,” Patrick says, his heart racing in his chest. “Yeah, I remember.”

David bites his bottom lip and Patrick looks down at it, watching it plump up when David releases it from his teeth. “I did have an idea actually. For a business? My own business?”

“You did?” Patrick asks, something deep and warm blooming inside of his chest.

“It was just an idea, I didn’t really think about it _too_ much,” David adds quickly. “But, for a moment I did think about opening up my own store here in town,” David says waving his hand.

“There’s still time,” Patrick says gently. _You make something beautiful here, David_ , Patrick wants to say. He wants to tell him so that he can quell any uncertainties David has.

David pushes his mouth to the side of his face and looks away. “I don’t know.”

“Well, if you ever want to talk about it, maybe even draft up a business plan, you can call me,” Patrick says with a soft smile. “From one friend to another.”

David nods his head in jerky motions, giving Patrick one more half smile before turning around and grabbing the to-go bag from Twyla at the counter. Patrick watches the café door long after David leaves through it.

\\\\\

Patrick is settling in bed for the night when his mother calls. “Hi sweetheart.”

“Hi mom,” Patrick says, cradling the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he slides a bookmark onto the page of his book. “Everything alright?”

“Oh yes, of course. Just wanted to hear your voice.”

Patrick smiles into the phone. “I miss you.”

“Oh, I miss you too, sweet boy,” she says. “How is the house coming along?”

“It’s good. Got a lot of work done this week, Ronnie said she’ll be done with all of the repairs by the end of next week,” Patrick says scratching his chin. “Then I can start picking out tiling and paint colors and all of that good stuff.”

His mom chuckles on the other line. “Are you sure you’re up to handle that by yourself?”

“I have good taste,” Patrick says defensively.

“Mhm,” his mom hums. “Of course you do dear.”

Patrick laughs and bites his lip. “I um, actually might have some help with that,” Patrick says hesitantly.

“You made a friend?” his mom asks, excitement in her voice.

“Yeah, um, his name is David,” Patrick says rubbing the back of his neck.

“And where did you meet David?”

“Just around town. It’s small here. After about a week you kind of just get to know everyone,” Patrick says.

“And he’s a good friend?”

“He’s something,” Patrick murmurs and his mom goes quiet on the other line. “Mom?”

“Tell me about him. Tell me about David,” his mom asks gently and Patrick takes a shuddering breath.

“He’s complex,” Patrick says as various words fill his head as thinks about David. “One of a kind, there’s no one else in this world like him. He’s dramatic and expressive, but he’s kind and generous. He’s smart and sophisticated and pretentious, but he’s good. He’s, he’s good,” Patrick finishes.

 _You love him_ , he wants to tell her. _You love him._

“He sounds wonderful,” his mom says and Patrick has to close his eyes. “I hope I can meet him one day.”

“You will,” Patrick says. “I think you’ll get along well.”

“I have no doubts,” his mom agrees. “It’s getting late, I should let you rest. Goodnight, my sweet boy.”

“Goodnight mom. Tell dad I said hi,” Patrick says.

“I will. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Patrick says and hangs up the phone. He places it on the nightstand and lets his head fallback onto the pillows and stares up at the ceiling. He doesn’t know how long he stares for, but when his mind starts to count, he gets to seven before sleep takes him gently.

\\\\\

Even in the alternate life, Stevie was always hard to read. She really only had one facial expression, except for those who were close in her life. It seems the only person who is able to decipher her skillful pokerface is David, so when she slides into the booth he’s sitting in one morning, he’s immediately nervous because she just kind of stares at him with her dark eyes.

“Hi,” Patrick says. “How are you Stevie?”

“Fine,” she replies and signals for Twyla who is wiping down the counter.

“Hey Stevie,” Twyla says walking over with a smile. “What can I get you?”

“Coffee and a fruit cup please,” Stevie says and when Twlya walks away, Stevie looks back at Patrick, just staring him down.

“Um,” Patrick says looking around nervously. “Everything good?”

“Yup,” Stevie says popping the p. “How’s the house?”

“It’s coming along. I might be coming to you soon about those cleaning supplies.”

Stevie nods her head. “You can take however much you’d like.”

Patrick smiles at her. “Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

“Do you need help cleaning?”

“I could use any help I could get, although I can only compensate with some beer and pizza,” Patrick says taking a sip of his tea.

“Beer and pizza is fine with me. David also likes pizza,” Stevie says casually and Patrick chokes on his coffee.

“Uh, y-yeah?” Patrick stutters, reaching for napkins to wipe his face.

“He’s not that great at cleaning,” Stevie says wrinkling her nose. “But he can be persuaded to fold a towel or two if there’s pizza involved.”

“Noted,” Patrick says, rubbing his hands on his pants. Stevie continues to stare at him and Patrick is transported back weeks ago when he stood at the counter of Rose Apothecary and Stevie saw right through his lies.

 _I know you Brewer,_ she said to him, looking at him like she still does.

“You guys seem to have been talking a lot,” Stevie says, her eyebrows quirking up.

“We’ve bumped into each other a couple of times,” Patrick says weakly and Stevie’s eyebrow goes even higher.

“Oh, you’ve just been bumping into each other in Elmdale?” she says with a smirk and Patrick knows he’s been had.

“I’ve been trying to improve my skincare regime?” Patrick replies and Stevie’s smirk deepens. Patrick sighs and smiles at her ruefully. “Okay, I’ve visited him a couple of times at the shop.”

Stevie smiles triumphantly before her face settles into something more serious. “He’s been mentioning you.”

“He has?” Patrick asks trying his best not to sound too eager, cringing when he hears that he does.

Stevie nods her head, but she looks grim. “Don’t tell him I told you, but I just needed to make sure.”

“Make sure of what?” Patrick asks cautiously.

“David’s been hurt a lot,” Stevie murmurs and Patrick tenses up. “Despite his aloof demeanor, he’s let himself trust a lot of people in the past who have ended up hurting him in the end. He’s a lot more delicate than he seems.

Patrick nods his head, swallowing thickly. He turns away, pulling at his fingers when the nagging question inside of him kind of bursts out. “Why didn’t he open up the store?”

Stevie sighs and waits for Twyla to set down her breakfast and walk away before continuing. “He found out his parents funded his entire professional career out of pity and he kind of spiraled after that. His sister and I were able to convince him to still go and make a plan for the store, but then,” Stevie says hesitating slightly. “There was an accident.”

“An accident?” Patrick asks with concern. “What kind of accident?”

“Nothing big, just, we had this ancient fucking water heater that we thought we could get away with for a little while longer, but it gave out on us two years ago. It caused some damage to the motel. A lot of damage actually,” she says grimace. “Repairs were fucking expensive.”

Patrick nods his head but looks at her confused. “What does that have to do with David?”

Stevie looks away and her face begins morphing into something uncomfortable. “I um, I own the motel by inheritance. It’s been in the family for generations and my aunt thought it would be a good idea to leave it to me,” she says with a tense laugh. “But the motel’s been struggling to stay afloat for a while now and I just didn’t have any extra money to pay for the repairs.”

“So David paid for them,” Patrick finishes for her, understanding dawning on him.

Stevie nods stiffly. “I didn’t want him to. His dad also didn’t want him to. The um, accident happened shortly after Mr. Rose agreed to be my partner for the motel. But David wouldn’t listen and paid Ronnie to start the repairs immediately,” Stevie says looking down. “He really saved my ass.”

Which just sounds like typical David Rose, Patrick thinks to himself. Sacrificing something for himself to help the people he loves around him. Elodie’s face appears in his head and he pushes her away before a headache can form.

“Which is why you wanted him to open up his store,” Patrick says and Stevie nods again.

“We paid him back all his money, tried to give him more, but he said no of course, you know because of the thing with his parents. And for a moment I thought he was going to, but he found out he needed more money than he already had from a business consultant he spoke to and he’s been working at the shop in Elmdale for a while already so he kind of just let it go. He hasn’t spoken about the store again up until recently.”

Patrick blushes and clears his throat. “Um, yeah, I might be responsible for that.”

Stevie seems to already know this and says, “Look, you seem like a nice guy, but it took a lot out of him the last time he tried opening the store and I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“You don’t think he can run his own business?” Patrick asks and Stevie rolls her eyes.

“Of course he can. I’m just afraid of what might happen when things become too tough again.” Stevie replies. “It took him a while to get over it.”

“He didn’t have me the last time,” Patrick says and Stevie’s eyes narrow.

“Do you even know what kind of store he wants to run? Has he even told you any of his ideas?” Stevie asks suspiciously.

 _Not in this life,_ Patrick thinks to himself, but he can’t reveal any of his cards yet. “No, he hasn’t told me anything.”

“Then how can you be so sure it’ll all work out?” Stevie asks and Patrick takes a deep breath.

“Because,” Patrick begins to say, trying to form the words he’s feeling, trying to find the words that wrap around him whenever David is near. “Because he’s David Rose,” Patrick says softly and Stevie’s eyebrows shoot upwards.

Patrick coughs awkwardly and looks away from her, feeling too open and too vulnerable to look Stevie in the eyes.

“Okay,” Stevie says nodding her head. “I trust you.”

“You do?” Patrick asks, his head shooting up.

“Yes,” Stevie says. “Besides, if this goes ass over backwards, I know where you live,” she says, spearing a piece of melon with her fork.

Patrick grins at her and goes back to eating his breakfast as well.

\\\\\

Patrick is rifling through the papers on his desk one breezy Wednesday morning when Ray tells him his next appointment will be arriving in five minutes. Between consulting the new brewery is Elm Valley and renovations at the house, Patrick has asked Ray to man his appointment book for just a couple of days, unable to physically be at his desk to answer phone calls.

“Thanks Ray,” Patrick says without looking up, his eyes fixed on his laptop as he updates the spreadsheets he has set up for the several businesses he’s currently consulting.

He’s so engrossed in his work that he doesn’t realize someone is sitting across from him until they clear their throat. When Patrick looks up, he’s surprised and delighted to see David Rose fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat. “Hi.”

“David,” Patrick breathes out with a smile.

“Um, this is for you? Ray told me to give this to you,” David says handing Patrick a ticket. “Apparently I’m C-37.”

Patrick chuckles and takes the ticket from David, making sure to tuck it securely into his ledger so it doesn’t get lost. “What can I do for you today, David?” Patrick asks, his heart racing in his chest.

David clears his throat and says, “I want to talk about it. My business.”

Patrick nods his head and opens up his notebook to a fresh sheet of paper. “Great, tell me about it,” Patrick says, excited to hear David’s ideas.

Turns out, David has _a lot_ of ideas, they’re just slightly all over the place. He gesticulates a lot with his hands and throws out a lot of buzz words, fumbles over some of the logistics of the business, but buried underneath all of that is Rose Apothecary. Even though David says he’s currently oscillating between two names.

“I don’t know, David, I think I like my name better,” Patrick teases and grins when David looks at him with contempt.

“It will be a cold day in hell when I name my store Rose _Mart_ ,” David says with a sniff and Patrick laughs.

“Well, this was _fun_ , but I need to head out to Elmdale for my shift,” David says standing up and Patrick is sad to see him go.

“You have a solid idea here, David. You just need some help,” Patrick says smiling at David. “You need a lot of help.”

“Okay, well, _thank you_ for your _help_ ,” David says with a grimace before his face settles into a soft smile. “Can I call you if I have more thoughts?”

“You can call me whenever you like,” Patrick replies and a warm flush crawls up his neck as David’s smile deepens.

“Okay,” David says softly and walks out of Ray’s living room.

\\\\\

Just as Patrick is getting out of his car the next day, his phone pings with a new text notification. It’s been a rough day at the house, the window replacement taking much longer than he expected and all Patrick wants to do is settle into bed early for the night.

But when he looks down at his phone and sees David’s name on his screen, he scrambles to open up the message, the thoughts of sleep quickly leaving his mind.

_Can we talk more about the store tonight? I have some things I want to show you._

Patrick takes a deep breath and responds, _Yes of course. Come over whenever you’re ready._

_Okay, thanks. See you soon._

Patrick gets out of his car, whistling to himself because the thought of seeing David greatly overpowers anything else he wants to do tonight when he’s met with Ray and about four other people in the living room.

“Patrick! Just in time for Catan!” Ray says happily.

“Um, actually I have an appointment soon,” Patrick says as he looks around warily.

“Oh that’s fine, we can be very quiet,” Ray says just as one of his guests lets out a very loud belch.

“No, no it’s fine. I can find somewhere else to conduct business,” Patrick says reaching into his phone to text David to meet him at the café instead. But then he suddenly remembers that Twyla is hosting tarot card event and closed the café early for the night.

Patrick groans internally as he pulls out his phone to reschedule with David.

_Hey, change of plans. My office is currently occupied, so do you mind waiting until tomorrow to talk?_

_You can just come over to my place. I don’t live far from Ray._

Patrick’s hands start to clam up and he forces himself to count to ten before responding to David.

_Sounds good. Send me your address._

\\\\\

Patrick is staring at the familiar brick building with his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He had been so distracted by the idea of hanging out with David at his place, he didn’t realize the address he was driving to until he pulled up to the building. Now parked in front of it, it’s unmistakable. Other than the addition of a few more shrubs in the front, it’s the same apartment complex Patrick had shared those two weeks with David in the other life, the place where he fell so deeply for a peculiar man who loved sweaters.

“What are the chances,” Patrick murmurs to himself. He takes a deep breath and unbuckles his seatbelt, rubbing his sweaty palms onto his jeans as he walks into the building.

Patrick hovers slightly outside of David’s door, counting to five before he knocks softly on it.

David opens the door and Patrick feels the air rush out of him. He’s dressed in lounge ware, black sweatpants with a white plain white sweater and his feet bare. He looks cozy and cute and Patrick wants to grab him by the waist and pepper kisses all over his face.

“Thanks for coming,” David says letting Patrick in.

“Of course, David,” Patrick replies as he takes the apartment in. It’s definitely different. The furniture is slightly generic but with a sleek and modern twist. It’s sparsely decorated, the picture frames on the fireplace mantel that Patrick was used to staring at replaced with candles. It doesn’t necessarily feel like David Rose, but there are bits and pieces of himself that are scattered around the apartment that Patrick takes note of, the monogrammed coffee mug that is currently sitting on the kitchen table being one of them.

There are also various papers scattered on the table, sketches, notes, floorpans and even a book that Patrick recognizes as a building code manual.

“Sorry for the mess,” David says, hastily clearing some space on the table. “I had a sudden burst of energy today.”

“You’re good,” Patrick says laughing and taking a seat. “Show me what you have.”

They go over everything David has so far. Vendor agreement drafts, the lease agreement for the store, carefully sketched out floor plans and designs for various labels. And anything David is unsure about, Patrick fills in those gaps, answering his many questions and reassuring him that his ideas are good.

“And I’ve spoken with Samantha, I met her month ago when when she stopped by the shop to buy an insulting amount of pineapple coconut candles,” David says with a shiver. “And she makes body milk that she would be willing to sell at the store.”

“Body milk?” Patrick asks curiously. “Like, for drinking?”

“Um, _no_ ,” David says slowly. “It is liquid moisturizer. For your body.”

“I don’t know, David,” Patrick says crossing his arms. “The label might be misleading.”

“Okay anyone with a fiber of common sense would know that it’s not actually milk,” David replies. “It’s milk for your body,” he says gesturing up and down.

Patrick’s eyes track up and down David’s body and he feels himself flushing.

_Jesus, Brewer, stay focused._

Patrick refocuses on David’s sketches. “Anyway, it’s very inventive, David. Rebranding local products under your brand, it’s sustainable and easily marketable,” Patrick says flipping through David’s designs.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, his lips quirked upwards.

“But,” Patrick says looking up and choosing his next words carefully. “I think you’re going to need more startup money.

David tenses up, his smile slipping from his face. “More money, I don’t know where to get more money. The shop pays me enough for me to afford my bills and rent and I’ve done my best to keep my spending to a minimum, except last month when I found these really rare Balmain pants off of Ebay,” David rambles, twisting the rings on his fingers. “My parents have money now, but I don’t want to ask them for anything,” David says, his face set.

“It’ll be difficult to get your business up without the extra funds,” Patrick says gently and David closes his eyes.

“So there’s no point in any of this,” David says blankly.

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” Patrick says shaking his head. “I could get you the money.”

David’s eyes snap open and he looks at Patrick surprised. “What?”

“There are grants available that support local businesses. I can apply for those grants to get you extra funding,” Patrick explains. He’s done research ever since Stevie revealed to him the reason why David didn’t open up the store before and came prepared to present his plan to David when he was ready to hear it.

“You would do that for me?” David asks and Patrick smiles at him.

 _I would do just about anything for you,_ he wants to say, but that would be crazy.

“I wouldn’t be doing it for free,” Patrick says. “If the grant money came in, you would be able to start paying me.”

“So, you want to invest in my business?” David asks suspiciously and Patrick’s smile only deepens.

“Yes,” Patrick says cheekily.

“Why?”

Patrick’s smile softens and he looks down at all the work David has done. “Because I think you have something really special here and I want to help you make it.”

When Patrick looks back up, David is staring at him with gentle awe, as if he’s never had anyone believe in him like Patrick does.

_God, you don’t even know, David Rose._

“Are you sure? Don’t you have other clients? And you’re still renovating your house,” David says.

“I’m nearing the end of my consultation with most of the businesses soon and I can manage this while renovating the house no problem,” Patrick says confidently. “And if we’re partners, I can rope you into helping me out when I need it. You know, team building and all that,” Patrick teases.

“Mhm, just so you know, I don’t do manual labor so I would be taking on a supervisory position,” David quips back, but he still looks at Patrick with a confused expression on his face.

Patrick’s heart is beating, but he doesn’t say anything, waiting for David to decide whether or not he wants this.

_It has to be him. He has to choose me._

“Okay,” David finally breathes out. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Patrick smiles and extends his hand out. David shakes his head at it, but smiles, a true one. A true and beautiful smile that makes Patrick feel lightheaded and shakes Patrick’s hand.

“But um, you do know if you don’t get the money-”

“Oh, I’m gonna get the money,” Patrick says like the take-charge kind of guy he is.


	9. Chapter 9

David manages to secure the lease from Ray and with the keys in his hand, he walks into the empty general store for the first time in two years. He walks around the store with his hands clasped behind his back, surveying the space, mentally listing the work and repairs that needs to be done as Patrick watches him quietly with his hip leaning against the counter.

David is beautiful like this. Just living in this moment and taking in the visions of his future. And when he turns around and catches Patrick staring at him, his smile is bright like a supernova and Patrick doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to look away.

The next day, David quits his job at the shop in Elmdale, meeting Patrick and Stevie later that night for a celebratory dinner with champagne and raisins courtesy of Twyla, and perhaps it’s because Patrick has become an expert at just watching David, but he notices he’s a lot more relaxed, his body not as tense and caved in like the first time he met David all those weeks ago.

And the repairs at the store in comparison to his house are manageable. Fixing the cracked window, repainting the store front and some deep cleaning inside is all finished within the week and as Patrick wraps up his consultations, David begins to meet with vendors.

And truth be told, David actually ends up doing most of the work for the first couple of weeks, because despite Patrick’s confidence in being able to juggle everything, there are only so many hours in each day and ripping out the old carpeting on the second floor of his house takes a lot longer than scheduled. So David drafts up the vendor agreements, schedules the shipping, and inputs their inventory into the spreadsheet Patrick made, reassuring Patrick that he can do it. And he does, because he’s David Rose.

He’s able to make a sizable list of possible vendors due to the people he’s met while working at the shop in Elmdale. Since he didn’t like the products the shop sold, David sourced his skin care from smaller vendors and craftspeople and have built personal relationships with them over the years that are now paying off ten fold. And the community of vendors all know each other which helps David gain connections across the spectrum of products he’s looking to sell at the store, charming his way into everyone’s hearts with his sly grin and honey-soaked voice.

And although Patrick feels frustrated at first, angry at himself for not being able to help more, he realizes that it is a blessing in disguise because David flourishes as he runs his business. He becomes more alive, his eye bright and his hands always gesticulating in the air as he tells Patrick where to put this and that, Patrick doing so happily as long as long as it means David keeps smiling like that. Like he’s excited, like he can’t wait.

And Stevie helps too, picking fights with David as they unpack the bottles of moisturizer together, Patrick watching them with a smile from the register. One day when David runs across the café to pick up their lunch, Stevie turns to him and says, “So be honest, how is he as a business owner?”

“He’s doing great,” Patrick answers honestly.

“Okay,” Stevie says rolling her eyes. “But really though, how has it been?”

“He’s a natural,” Patrick says looking around the store at all the boxes of products that are waiting to be unpacked and labeled. “He’s amazing with the vendors, actually managed to snag a pretty solid deal with Mrs. Cooper and her handmade soaps over in Elmdale. He actually met her when he was at the other shop. They carried her products for a trial run but ended up dropping her because they didn’t sell very well. But according to David that’s because they weren’t displayed at a marketable area in the store. He drafted up the display and showed me yesterday as well as the packaging that’ll be here by next week hopefully. And you _really_ should see the contract he got with the woman who made this moisturizer,” Patrick says but stops talking abruptly when his eyes land back on Stevie. It’s at that moment he realizes that he’s been talking nonstop about David and if her smirk is any indication, she’s thoroughly enjoying the blush that’s probably climbing up his face. “H-He’s been good,” Patrick finishes weakly and Stevie’s smile only grows.

“Wow,” she says crossing her arms. “That good, huh?”

“Yup,” Patrick says, coughing awkwardly. “W-We should finish unpacking these.”

“Sure,” she says, the shark like grin still on her face.

They work quietly for a couple of more minutes, Patrick ignoring Stevie’s pointed stare. They’re finished with one box, Patrick reaching for another when Stevie says, “You know, David’s been single for a while.”

Patrick’s hands stop moving and he turns to her sharply. “Excuse me?” He squeaks out.

“He’s been single for a while now,” she repeats, reaching for the box that Patrick was moving to grab. “I mean, people have been interested, but David has been kind of oblivious about it,” Stevie says with a nonchalant shrug.

Patrick likes to think that he’s always a very level headed person, rational really when it comes to high stress situations, but that’s thrown out the window as jealousy and fear coils in his stomach. Other people have been interested in David? I mean, _of course_ they have, just _look_ at him.

 _Dammit,_ Patrick thinks to himself bitterly. _Who the fuck do I have to keep away?_

“Ugh,” David says entering the store with their lunches. “Sorry, Roland would not let me leave. Like he was _literally_ standing in the doorway because he swore he thought we were having an earthquake when it was just Bob coming back with his tow truck,” he says placing the plastic bag on the counter. “So, how much work have you gotten done during my escapade?” David asks surveying the room.

“A lot, so I demand compensation immediately,” Stevie says walking towards the counter with grabby hands.

“Hey, hey, hey,” David says swatting her hands away. “I’ll hand you your lunch, you vulture. And I got you an extra side of onion rings so _you’re welcome_ ,” David says unpacking the food.

“That isn’t everything we agreed on,” Stevie says poking David’s side.

“You’ll get your wine _after_ we’re done putting the labels on all of the bottles,” David says handing Stevie her lunch. “I need some kind of collateral to keep you here or else you’ll abandon me like Andrew Rannells did at the wrap party for _Girls_ with one of the ensemble members from _Escape to Margaritaville_.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Stevie says, hauling herself up onto one of the center tables and opening up the styrofoam container on her lap.

“And a chicken club for you,” David says handing Patrick his food. “I didn’t know what condiments you like on it so I had Twyla pack some extra for you,” David says.

Patrick grins at him and takes the container. “Thanks, I always have it with pickles and some mustard.”

David smiles back at him and says, “I’ll make sure to remember for next time,” and from behind him, Stevie makes a gagging face behind David’s back.

“So,” David says opening up his lunch, a BLT with french fries. “By next week we should have most of our inventory secured, I just need to do a couple of more vendor visits. I’m actually heading out to meet Shannon about supplying her candles here.”

“Shannon?” Patrick asks, his interest suddenly piqued.

“Yeah, she lives here in town, makes these really nice soy candles,” David says before taking a bite from his sandwich.

Patrick looks down at his lunch and tries to figure out why that name sounds so significant. He’s chewing contemplatively on a french fry when the images of Shannon, the soy candle maker from the alternate life, bombard his head. Shannon who liked to linger in the store after her delivery, who liked talking to David and asking him questions about his skin care routine and laughing at all of his jokes.

_“I mean, people have been interested, but David has been kind of oblivious about it.”_

“After I’m done here with the plumber tomorrow, I’m going to head over to Shannon’s place with her contract-”

“I’ll go,” Patrick suddenly blurts out.

David blinks at him. “You’ll go to Shannon’s?”

“Yes, yep,” Patrick says nodding his head. “Let me do it. You’ve been going on vendor trips none stop, let me handle a few of them tomorrow.”

“Are you sure? I thought you had that baseball thing tomorrow,” David says his eyebrows furrowing.

Patrick does in fact have a baseball thing tomorrow, a small pickup game between some of the other residents here in Schitt’s Creek that he was very much looking forward to as a way of letting out some stress. But how can he play baseball while David is getting _wooed_ by someone who is not him?

“I’m actually going to skip it,” Patrick says. “My shoulder hasn’t been all that great lately with all of the renovations at the house. So I thought it was best to just sit out tomorrow anyway.”

“Oh,” David says, his eyebrows furrowed. “Well if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, yes,” Patrick says nodding his head again, making sure to keep his voice even. “It’s no problem at all.”

“Okay, thanks,” David says with a smile. “Then let me actually grab you something for your shoulder. It has arnica and peppermint oil so it’ll help with pain relief,” he says heading to the backroom.

Patrick goes back to his sandwich, somewhat more relieved now, but catches Stevie staring at him from the corner of his eye. He looks up and sees her smirking at him with a knowing smile and he feels his face flushing again.

“Can I help you?” Patrick asks with some sass and Stevie only smiles wider. “Nope, all good here,” and eats one of her onion rings.

\\\\\

The house is coming together at a steady pace now that the big repairs are done. Ronnie gives him a hard time when he tells her he’s going to tackle retiling the kitchen, but to his credit he did help his parent’s redo their kitchen a couple of years ago so he sort of knows what he’s doing.

Despite it now being the middle of November, it is uncharacteristically hot, so Patrick is working wearing only a thin t-shirt, chipping away at the old tiled backsplash. The kitchen is his biggest project, almost everything needing to be updated. He ripped up the old linoleum flooring last week, removed the countertops with the help of Ronnie and her crew, and he took off all of the old brass hardware from the cabinets and drawers. He decides to forgo replacing the cabinetry, opting to sand away the old, bright yellow paint and revive what ends up being beautiful oak cabinets. It doesn’t hurt that he also saves a good chunk of money which eases things a little.

He stops to wipe the beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand dusting them onto his jeans and turns to grab a cold bottle of water from the mini cooler he brought with him because his refrigerator won’t be delivered for the next week. But as he turns, standing in the doorway is David, smiling sheepishly at him.

“David,” Patrick breathes out in surprise.

“Sorry, I knocked a couple of times, but I don’t think you could have heard me over this construction zone,” David says sweeping his hands over the broken tiles. “Your door was unlocked so I kind of let myself in?”

“Kind of?” Patrick asks chuckling.

“I would have waited longer out of politeness, but I think you’ve noticed that the weather and I don’t do well with sweating. But honestly you should keep your door locked, murderers are real,” David says crinkling his nose and Patrick laughs some more.

“What are you doing here?” Patrick asks, reaching into his cooler for two cold bottles of water, handing one of them to David.

“I was on my way home from Warner Farms and thought I should bring you some of the cheeses I sampled today,” David says waving a brown paper bag. “Although your lack of a refrigeration unit concerns me.”

“I guess we’ll just have to eat it now,” Patrick says, washing his hands in the sink. “I assume you can handle eating a little more cheese?”

“I know I should be somewhat peeved by the snark, but I actually do want to eat more of the goat cheese, it is very good,” David replies.

“I have a bottle of wine we can have to go with the cheese,” Patrick says leading them out of the kitchen and into the living room. “One of my neighbors dropped off a bottle as a welcome to the neighborhood present.”

“Oh now it’s a party,” David says shimmying his shoulders and Patrick laughs because it’s so cute and he’s so enamored by him.

Patrick doesn’t have any furniture yet, just a couple of folding chairs and a box to set the cheese and wine on top of. He also doesn’t have any glassware, but David doesn’t seem to mind drinking red wine out of paper coffee cups.

“How did the meeting go?” Patrick asks, popping another piece of aged cheddar into his mouth.

“Fine,” David sighs out. “A lot better than I expected actually. There’s some unfortunate history with Heather Warner because of my sister, but I managed to secure exclusivity with her products for a year. She gets to decide whether or not she wants to renew.”

“What history with your sister?” Patrick asks curiously. He vaguely remembers David from the alternate life mentioning something similar.

“Just typical Alexis stuff,” David says waving his hand. “Dated the town’s vet, got engaged to him twice, broke the engagement, Ted ended up dating Heather, Alexis realized she was in love with Ted and then Ted broke up with Heather to get back with Alexis. Just Alexis being Alexis,” David says nonchalantly.

“Oh wow,” Patrick says blinking at him. “That’s a lot to unpack. I have to admit, I’m kind of shocked Warner Farms agreed to let us carry their products now.”

“Be prepared to be more surprised when I tell you Alexis helped to secure the deal,” David says taking a sip of his wine.

“What?” Patrick asks shocked as David nods his head.

“Heather was really hesitant to sign the contract and in a fit of desperation, I excused myself to the bathroom to yell at Alexis and tell her this was all her fault,” David says smearing the goat cheese on a cracker. “And then Alexis told me to give the phone to Heather and I said fuck it because at that point I didn’t think we had any chance of signing her on. But after five minutes on the phone with Alexis, Heather was willing to negotiate a deal.”

“What did Alexis tell her?” Patrick asks.

“Something about featuring her in the largest agricultural magazine in North America,” David says with a shrug. “Apparently Alexis met the editor-in-chief in New York last month and they’ve been getting peach bellinis every Sunday,” David says, popping the cracker into his mouth.

“That, that is impressive,” Patrick says furrowing his eyebrows. “I can’t believe she had a contact like that so readily available.”

“That’s the thing about Alexis,” David says with a rather fond look on his face. “Everyone who first meets her think she’s just this flighty person and like she is? But she always manages to figure something out when you need her.”

Patrick smiles and plays with the lip of his paper cup. “You must miss her a lot.”

David’s mouth twitches upwards as he looks down into his own cup. “We, we’ve grown closer in the last few years.”

Patrick nods his head. “Have you thought about visiting her there?”

“I have,” David says nodding. “But now that we have the store, I don’t see myself making a trip anywhere for a while now. My partner informed me about the importance of maintaining consistent store hours in order to increase customer loyalty,” David says with an exaggerated roll of his eyes coupled with a smirk that leaves Patrick feeling hot under the collar.

Patrick chuckles and takes a deep sip of his wine, hoping to hide his blush under the guise of the wine. “If you ever feel the need to visit her once we open, I can always man the store by myself, David.”

David’s face tightens up as he looks away. “I appreciate the offer, but I also kind of just, don’t want to go?”

“You don’t want to go to New York?” Patrick asks.

“Not really? I mean, don’t get me wrong I’m _dying_ for a proper New York City bagel, but,” David says shrugging his shoulder. “I don’t have the best memories there.”

“Is that why you didn’t move back?” Patrick asks and he wants to kick himself for it. But he wants to know, almost desperately why David chose to stay in Schitt’s Creek when the rest of his family has moved on from here.

“I had a couple of reasons for staying back,” David says. “At first I wanted to go back because it felt like it was expected of me to have that reaction. Everyone assumed that I would be leaving too because of what happened a couple of years ago. We had the chance to sell the town and leave and I was the first person to drive off,” David says putting his cup down to twist the silver rings on his fingers. “Like, literally. I actually stole a truck,” David says with a wry smile.

“You _stole_ a truck?” Patrick asks surprised.

“Roland’s truck to be precise,” David says with a grimace. “It was not my most glamorous road trip, but I don’t know. In that moment, all I could think about was leaving,” David says with a distant look on his face. “But then it broke down and the Amish practically raised me until my family finally found me.”

“The Amish,” Patrick repeats weakly.

“We’re selling their butter by the way,” David says reaching for a piece of gouda. “It is incredibly delicious.”

“Okay, so you’ve stolen a truck and lived with the Amish,” Patrick says shaking his head. “And now you’re here.”

David nods his head. “And I’m now here. Alexis and I were supposed to get an apartment together,” he says. “But I just didn’t feel like I was done with this place. And I didn’t really know what I was going to do there anyway. Plus Stevie is here and I couldn’t leave without her,” David says before quickly adding, “You are to never to repeat those words to her.”

Patrick chuckles and nods his head. “Your undying affection for Stevie will be kept between us.”

David grins back and looks back down at his cup of wine. “It was hard when they left. I thought I had made a terrible mistake. But now that we’re opening the store, I’m glad I stayed behind because I feel like I have a purpose now. Of course it could all still crash and burn,” David says with a wave of his hand. “But, I think I have a good feeling about this?” David says unsurely, biting his bottom lip.

Patrick shakes his head and takes one of David’s hands. “David, your instincts are correct. The store is going to be perfect.”

His hand is still impossibly soft and warm, larger than Patrick’s, David’s rings cool against his skin.

He doesn’t want to let go, wants to pull David towards him until he’s sitting on his lap, wrapping his arms around him and keeping him close to his heart forever. But with incredible strength and reluctance, Patrick lets go of it, immediately missing the warmth.

David’s blushing and he looks beautiful with his cheeks stained red. “T-thanks,” David murmurs, looking away and coughing awkwardly. “So,” David says rubbing his palms onto his pants. “How about a house tour?”

Patrick doesn’t know how but he manages to keep it together as he shows David around the house because imagining David standing in his house is one thing, actually having him here admiring the work he’s accomplish so far is another. He tells him about the new mantle for the fireplace that’s set to arrive next week, a large slab of cherry that he got at cost from their vendor who supplies them with their wooden kitchen utensils. He walks David through the kitchen and what he hopes to finish by the end of the day so that he can put in an order for new tiling. He’s been hesitant to place orders for the design elements of the house, not as confident in his eye for design like he is when crunching numbers. But David seems to solve that problem for him.

“I want something clean and simple,” Patrick tells David. “Something durable.”

“Subway tiles,” David replies walking around the kitchen. “Subway tiles for the backsplash and white quartz countertops because they’re super durable and affordable in comparison to granite, oh, and I would stain your cabinets to be darker. It’ll help warm up the space,” David says listing things off quickly as Patrick quickly looks around for paper to write all of it down.

And now Patrick finds himself following David around the house with a notebook and pencil, writing down all of David’s suggestions from paint colors to cabinet fixtures.

“I would actually keep the wood paneling in here,” David says in the office. “It adds texture, but definitely paint it white so that it brightens up the room.”

“Should we change the floor?” Patrick asks, looking down at his feet.

“Don’t you dare!” David answers quickly. “Refinish it if you want to, but leave them be. Most people would kill to have floors like these,” David says gesturing to the wide wooden oak planks.

Upstairs, Patrick takes them to the guest bedrooms, David commenting on their sizes with a pleased tone.

“This one would make a great closet,” David says sweeping around one the smallest bedroom.

“Yes, I’m sure my 6 shirts and 4 pairs of pants will enjoy all of this space,” Patrick replies and David crinkles his nose cutely.

“I find the quantity of your wardrobe insulting,” David says, Patrick grinning back at him.

They move to the master and David stands in the middle of it with a pleased smile. “Now this, is a master,” he says. “There’s a balcony?”

“Yeah,” Patrick says following David out. “It was in pretty rough shape, some tree branches damaged the railing. But Ronnie was able to patch it up for me.”

“Mm,” David says looking out into the expansive backyard. “It’s nice, perfect with a cup of coffee in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Patrick says softly as he watches David, imagining him standing in the early morning sun, his hair mussed up, his eyes still lazy with sleep. Patrick would walk up to him quietly, kiss his cheek and press a steam mug of coffee into his hands, wrapping an arm around David’s waist and pulling him in close to his side. David would turn his head into Patrick’s neck, burrowing into it and whisper, “I love you,” into his ear.

Patrick looks away quickly, staring out into the backyard instead, the ache of wanting David making his throat close up.

They make their way to the master bath, David telling him to not throw out the old clawfoot tub, giving him the number of one of their vendors who will be able to restore it for him instead.

“Trust me, you’ll want to keep that,” David says as they walk back downstairs. “I had a clawfoot in my apartment during a summer I spent in Paris and it was divine. I never wanted to get out of it.”

Patrick does his very best not to imagine David soaking naked in a bathtub and nearly trips down the stairs.

“I’m impressed with what you’ve gotten done so far,” David says once they’re settled back into their chairs.

“There’s still a lot,” Patrick says running a hand through his hair. “But once I get the kitchen and one of the bathrooms in working condition, I can move in here permanently while I finish up the repairs.”

“Mm, eager to move out of chez Ray’s?” David asks with a teasing smirk.

“Very much so,” Patrick replies with a chuckle. “We just have a lot going on so getting anything done on my to-do list sounds great to me.”

“And what is on this to-do list? Expanding your wardrobe?” David asks, his smile smushed to one side as Patrick playfully rolls his eyes.

“Well other than fully renovating a house, opening the store is next on the list,” Patrick replies with a grin and David suddenly hides his face into his cup. “David?”

“Yeah, yes, opening the store, yup,” David says taking a deep sip of his wine.

“Something on your mind?” Patrick asks, leaning back in his chair.

“No, nope!” David says unsurely. “We should, um, discuss that actually. Dates for opening up the store.”

“Well,” Patrick begins. “Since we’re coming up on the holidays, I suggest taking advantage of that and opening up by the first week of December.”

“Two weeks?” David squeaks out.

“Yes, David,” Patrick replies easily. “In two weeks. What did you have in mind?”

“I didn’t, I don’t actually a date in mind, but I was thinking more than two weeks! Is that enough time?” David asks, pulling at his hands.

“David,” Patrick says softly. “You’re ready. The store is ready. You can do this.”

David bites his lower lip, closes his eyes tightly and nods his head quickly. “Mhm, yep. Yes, definitely ready.”

“If you’re more comfortable waiting, we can push it back-” Patrick says but is swiftly cut off. “No, you’re right, we should be taking advantage of the holiday rush. If I call tomorrow, I can have some holiday themed packaging delivered to us as well as some decorations.”

“Are you sure?” Patrick asks gently.

“Yes,” David says with a shaky nod but a firm tone. “December 1st is our opening day.”

Patrick smiles at him. “Your store is going to be beautiful, David.”

“Our,” David corrects him. “Our store. It’s just as much as yours as it is mine. And I mean that literally, those because those tax forms you filled out made no fucking sense to me.”

Patrick laughs and shakes his head. He raises his cup and says, “To Rose Apothecary.”

David smiles and raises his cup as well. “To us.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thank you all for your beautiful comments! ❤️

Patrick is wiping down his newly installed kitchen counters when his phone rings. After David’s last visit, Patrick went straight away to ordering everything he listed off to him, wanting to get the kitchen done as quickly as he can.

He puts down his rag and reaches into his back pocket for his phone, smiling to himself when a photo of his dad fills the screen. “Hi dad.”

“Patrick!” His father says from the other line. “How are you doing, bud?”

“I’m doing great,” Patrick says leaning against the counter. “The new kitchen counter was installed today and the tiles for the backsplash are on their way.”

“It sounds like things are really coming together, son,” his dad says. “And all by yourself!”

“I definitely had a lot of help,” Patrick replies, leaning against the counter. “A lot of people in town have lend a hand during the renovations.”

“I’m happy to hear that. It’s a relief to know you met some good people down there. I know you told us not to worry, but you know how your mother gets,” his dad says.

“I know,” Patrick says gently. “I’m sorry I left so suddenly, but it was something I had to do.”

“Your mother and I support you in whatever you want to do, Patrick. And you don’t owe us an explanation.”

“I do though,” Patrick says scrubbing his face with his hand. “I’ll tell you everything, I just need to get there first.”

“We love you,” his dad says fiercely. “Take all the time you need.”

“Love you too,” Patrick murmurs.

“Now, tell me about these friends you’ve made. Anyone special?” his dad asks with a suspicious lilt to his voice.

“Dad!” Patrick says surprised. “You sound like mom.”

“We’re old and bored son. I’ve resorted to eavesdropping on Mrs. Lee at the store the other day. Apparently the cheddar was very disappointing.”

Patrick laughs, shaking his head. “I’ll make sure send you some cheese to give Mrs. Lee from the store.”

“The store! Tell me about the store!” his dad was excitedly and Patrick grins big.

“It’s coming together very well. We’ve decided on an opening date,” Patrick says.

“I’m so proud of you son. Your own business, something you’ve always wanted,” he says proudly.

“It’s been amazing,” Patrick replies. “I couldn’t have asked a better partner in David.”

“Ah, David,” his dad says. “How is David?”

“Good,” Patrick says carefully. “He’s uh, good. Busy with getting things ready. David is very particular and he just wants everything perfect.”

“I hope you boys aren’t working yourselves to the bone. Make sure to take care of yourselves. You don’t want yourselves getting sick,” his dad says worriedly.

“We’re being careful, I promise,” Patrick reassures him. “Neither of us is getting sick.”

\\\\\

Patrick notices it almost immediately that David is sick. Given that most of his time is spent watching David, he sees the sniffles, the flushed cheeks and the droopy eyes before David says anything.

They’re a week away from their opening, David having spent the better part of last week running around frantically to make sure everything was ready, making sure to supply the store with every holiday’s basic needs. The weather has finally began to turn and the sudden drop in temperature has already began to claim its victims, including David Rose.

“David, I think you should head in early,” Patrick says approaching him carefully. “You’ve already gone through half a box of tissues.”

“I’m fine,” David says, his voice thick with mucus. “I just have to finish labeling these and then I have to fold the knit sweaters that we got in today.”

“I will handle all of that,” Patrick says, taking the jars out of David’s hands. “Please, go home and rest. We can’t risk you getting worse by next week when we open.”

David sighs and lets Patrick take the jars and labels out of his hand. “Fine, but make sure you’re careful folding the arms of the sweaters please, they have to be symmetrical on either side or else they’ll look lumpy.”

“Yes, David,” Patrick says gently nudging David towards the door.

“And Mrs. Levinson will be dropping off the order of menorahs today. I want them displayed here on the right next to the wooden dreidels,” David says waving to the right side of the store. “And don’t forget to make bundles of nine candlesticks to include with the menorahs.”

“Yes, David,” Patrick says again with a smile opening the front door.

“And don’t let Stevie take any more bottles of wine!” David says before Patrick gently closes the door behind him.

He works at the store by himself, curious townsfolk peeking their heads through the window as Patrick points to the sign posted at the front door with the date of their opening written on it.

It’s both exciting and terrifying knowing that their little store is on the cusp of finally opening up.This is one of the largest puzzle pieces Patrick has been working hard to fit into his life and it feels surreal at times that he got here. All because of a two week dream life he lived that turned everything upside down.

He folds the sweaters as per David’s instructions, finishes labeling the jars of hand cream and accepts Mrs. Levinson’s delivery of handcrafted menorahs, all the while thinking about David as he normally does, but filled with worry instead of his usual fondness.

He works through the list of chores for the day efficiently, leaning on the work to keep his mind occupied from David. It only helps a bit.

By 4pm, he’s done with the list, fidgeting with his phone when Stevie enters the store, a mischievous grin on her face.

“Hello, Patrick,” she says, sidling up to him.

“Hi?” Patrick says suspiciously. “I was given very strict orders not to give you a bottle of wine.”

Stevie rolls her eyes. “I’m not here to collect on my debt. I’m actually here to ask you a favor.”

“Sure? What’s the favor?” Patrick asks, putting his phone down.

“I have a last minute video meeting tonight at the motel with Mr. Rose and some of the investors and David requested that I bring him food. I was wondering if you could deliver it for me,” Stevie asks with a neutral look on her face, but Patrick knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Sure,” he answers cooly. “Not a problem.”

“Great! He wants his regular, so-”

“Waffles with strawberries,” Patrick finishes for her and hates and delights at how Stevie’s smirk deepens. “I got it.”

“Hm, seems like you do,” she says over her shoulder and walks out of the store.

\\\\\

Patrick knocks gently on David’s door, the to-go bag of David’s food clutched tightly in his hand. It’s not that big of a deal, dropping off food for your business partner who you’re harboring intense feelings for after spending two weeks in an alternate reality where you were both married. Really, it’s fine.

But when David opens the door, rumpled from sleep, his eyes bloodshot, his hair askew, Patrick is still surprised by how his heart lurches at the mere sight of him.

“Hi,” David says, his voice rough with sleep. “Is everything okay? Did something happen at the store?”

“No, no,” Patrick says lifting up the to-go bag. “Stevie asked me to drop off food for you. She has a meeting right now.”

“Ah, well as long as the store hasn’t burned down,” David says accepting the bag.

“On the off chance it does, we’re covered because I got the insurance,” Patrick replies with a smile and David rolls his eyes.

“Okay, I would have gotten to it eventually,” David replies with a sniff and Patrick only grins wider. “So, what do I owe you for my delivery of…” David asks peering into the bag.

Patrick laughs and shakes his head. “I got your usual, waffles with strawberries,” Patrick says.

David wrinkles his nose happily and nods his head. “Oh, well thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“Of course David,” Patrick replies, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I should let you get more rest now.”

“It’s just a 24 hour bug so I’ll see you at the store tomorrow,” David says beginning to close his door before pausing. “Did you happen to-”

“There’s extra maple syrup,” Patrick finishes for him, delighting at the look of surprise of David’s face. “I made sure Twyla packed extra for you.”

David holds the bag a little closer to him and nods his head. “Thank you, Patrick.”

Patrick smiles and walks backwards. “Goodnight, David.”

“Goodnight,” David echoes softly before closing the door.

\\\\\

When Patrick wakes up the next morning to a text message from David, Patrick knows he’ll be at the store by himself that day, especially since the message in clocked in at 5:37am.

 _I just need a couple of more hours of sleep so I’ll be in by the afternoon,_ the message says.

 _Stay home, I can handle everything for today,_ Patrick writes back.

He gets ready for the day quickly, wanting to head into the store to begin the list early. It’s a lot, but nothing he can’t handle on his own.

He works efficiently on his own with his worry for David buzzing at the back of his skull. He thinks about calling David to check up on him, but ultimately decides against it, not wanting to run the risk of waking David up if he’s sleeping.

He’s breaking down the many cardboard boxes they’ve accumulated throughout the weeks when he gets a text message from Stevie asking if he can deliver food for David again.

_I had to head out to Elm Valley for the day to oversee the new motel renovations. He requested soup today, but not if it’s Twyla’s mystery chowder._

It’s nearly 5pm and Patrick is just about done with today’s list of chores when the idea strikes him.

If it’s soup David wants, it’s soup he will get.

\\\\\

  
After a quick trip to the super market and a chat with his mother, Patrick walks up the stairs to David’s apartment door by 6pm and knocks gently on the door.

When David opens it, it’s obvious his condition has gotten worse and not better. His hair is skewed every which way, his cheeks are flushed and he’s wrapped himself up in a blanket.

“Hi,” David croaks out. “Stevie said you would be stopping by again.”

“Yeah, you requested soup?” Patrick says.

“Um, I did, but I was hoping it would be already assembled by the time it got me,” David replies eying the grocery bags in Patrick’s hands.

“Despite the fact that Roland swears the soup at the café has healing properties, I thought I should make you my mom’s magic chicken soup,” Patrick replies. “It’ll make you feel better, trust me."

David eyes him warily before sighing and opening the door wider to let Patrick in. “It may be the meds I’m on that doesn’t make me care that you’re seeing me like this, but if you’re offering to make me magic soup then I’m not going to say no to that.”

Patrick gets to work making the soup, dicing up the celery and carrots per his mother’s instructions. David is cocooned in his blanket on the couch, the television on low, but he’s turned towards Patrick in the kitchen. The wastebasket next to the couch is overflowing with tissues and Patrick makes a note in his head empty it out before he leaves.

“Did you call Ivan about the mini cupcakes for the opening next week?” David asks from the couch, his head peaking through the blanket.

“Yes, I also called Mr. Schuyler to order a couple of more bottles of wine and champagne as well,” Patrick replies while stirring the pot.

“And what about the tote bags? Did they come in yet?”

“They came in today and have already been unpacked,” Patrick says.

“Okay, and what about-”

“I also have the gift boxes neatly stacked underneath the cash,” Patrick replies easily. “I promise I finished today’s work. Trust me.”

David takes a deep breath. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just feel bad that I haven’t been of any help the last two days. I feel useless.”

“David, you’re sick and you’re not going to get any better if you continue to allow yourself to stress out like this,” Patrick says from the stove. “This needs to simmer for a little but longer. Why don’t you close your eyes and take it easy? I’ll wake you up when it’s ready to be eaten.”

David squeezes his eyes shut and nods his head stiffly, standing up from the couch and walking to the bed. “I um,” David begins to say. “I really appreciate you doing this for me. I’m not used to all of this,” David says gesturing towards the kitchen with his hands.

“What, human decency?” Patrick jokes.

“Well, yes,” David replies and Patrick is taken aback.

David alludes to his past often, always with a tone of indifference and nonchalance, but Patrick always remembers and can hear what’s underneath that hasn’t been said aloud. But sometimes David will say something so bluntly that it etches underneath Patrick’s skin.

“Well get used to it,” Patrick replies gently. “This is a standard that I show all of my friends.”

David’s mouth quirks up. “Friend?”

“Yes, David,” Patrick huffs out with a grin. “Friend. Now take a nap, I’ll wake you up when the soup is ready.”

David settles into his bed, pillows piled high behind him and at first it seems like David has no intention of actually sleeping, intent on watching Patrick instead. But when Patrick turns from the fridge, David is fast asleep.

Patrick lets the soup simmer as he cleans up around the apartment, emptying out the trash, washing dishes, and fixing up the couch.

It isn’t until he’s folding one of David’s sweaters carefully, his hands running over the soft fabric when he realizes how this should be weird, right? Even though there’s been a steady buzz of anxious energy humming through his body the moment he stepped through the door, he’s also felt comfortable tidying up David’s apartment, as if it is just second nature to take care of David.

When the soup is ready, Patrick quietly walks over to the bed, David’s head just peaking out from underneath the comforter. His eyebrows are knit tightly together, his face pinched, so Patrick smoothes a finger across the wrinkle, watching it smooth down and David’s face settle into something calmer and he feels his heart lurch into his throat.

In any universe, Patrick will never tire of seeing David’s face melt underneath his fingertips.

His feeling for David are different now in comparison to how he felt all those months ago when he came back from his two week journey. There’s still a desperate clawing inside of him, the desire to always be near him never wavering. But his emotions for David have settled into something deeper, more grounded. Because he _knows_ David now. Knows his quirks and his annoyances and his talent and his kindness.

Months ago he was infatuated with a beautiful stranger. Now he’s infatuated with his friend. A very good friend. And he feels the most like himself than he’s ever been before.

Fighting down the urge to brush his hair out of his face, Patrick pulls down the comforter and shakes David gently. “David, soup is ready.”

“Nnrhgf,” David mumbles, turning body away from Patrick.

“You have to eat so you can take more medicine. Eat just a little bit and then you can go back to sleep,” Patrick says.

David turns his head, squinting his eyes open. “Will you eat with me,” David asks.

“If you want me to,” Patrick says.

David nods his head and sits up on his bed, still wrapped in his comforter. “Let’s eat on the couch.”

Patrick ladles the soup into bowls, pressing one of them into David’s hand. He’s still wrapped up, looking cozy, his eyes lazy with sleep and his hair askew.

“Smells good,” David says, his voice croaky and rough.

“A Marcy Brewer special,” Patrick replies, passing the bowl to David. “Although she’s really famous for her carrot cake.

David’s face lights up and Patrick basks in it, already planning his next call with his parents to acquire said cake if it means David continues to look like that.

“Eat,” Patrick pushes. “There’s enough to get you through until tomorrow.”

David carefully scoops some soup into his mouth, his eyes closing with contentment as Patrick watches.

“Good?” Patrick asks with a grin.

“It’s delicious,” David replies.

They eat together comfortably, Patrick debriefing David on the day and what needs to be done tomorrow until their spoons scrape the bottom of their bowls.

“Okay, so that definitely was some magical soup,” David says, leaning back in his chair.

Patrick chuckles and places their dishes in the sink. “I’ll be sure to let my mother know of your compliments,” Patrick says, turning on the faucet.

David stands up from the couch and hip checks Patrick, reaching for a dish towel to dry the bowls Patrick is washing.

“Go back to bed, I got this,” Patrick says but David shakes his head.

“I have been bedridden for most of today,” David says. “And I think according to societal standards, this constitutes as me being nice? I’m still a little hazy on the details,” David says with a grin and Patrick laughs.

“You’re a good person, David Rose,” Patrick says with a fond smile and David crinkles his nose at him.

“Mmm, but that’s not _nice_ ,” he says and Patrick laughs again.

Once the dishes are done and the leftover soup is put away, David walks Patrick to the door.

“Thank you for the soup,” David says. “And for taking care of things at the store on your own. I know it’s a lot of work,” David says pulling at his fingers.

“It’s fine David, we’re on track for the opening and I want you to take care of yourself first,” Patrick says. “Besides, it’s given me a chance to do some experimental window displays. I got some interesting looks for my toilet plunger Eiffel Tower today.”

David squeezes his eyes closed, his grin pushed into the side of his face. “I know you’re joking, but that image is actually quite disturbing, especially because I was broken up with on top of the Eiffel Tower the last time I was in Paris.”

“On top of it?” Patrick asks. “Quite a noisy place to break up with someone.”

“Mhm,” David says nodding. “They also had a very heavy Cockney accent, so that coupled with the high winds meant they had to repeat, ‘I’m leaving you,’ about four times.”

“David,” Patrick says shaking his head.

“I’m still very fond of Paris though,” David says. “I would die for a croissant from Maison Pichard, although I have to admit, Ivan’s croissants are also very delicious,” David says, his eyes twinkling.

“I do love a croissant,” Patrick replies with a chuckle.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” David asks, a soft smile on his face.

Patrick opens his mouth to retort but David beats him to it. “If I’m feeling better.”

Patrick smiles and nods his head. “If you feel better. Goodnight, David.”

“Goodnight, Patrick,” David says and softly closes his door.

\\\\\

Patrick is wiping down the store windows from the outside the next morning when Stevie drops by.

“Good morning, Patrick,” Stevie says rather cheerily as she stands next to him with a brown paper bag in her hand.

“Good morning,” Patrick replies suspiciously. “What do you want?”

“Can’t I stop by just to say hi?” Stevie asks raising an eyebrow.

Patrick raises and eyebrow too, matching her face before it settles into her normal look of indifference. “Fine, I’m here to say thank you for bringing David food again. I know how busy you are, so I appreciate you taking the time to make sure he was fed.”

“It wasn’t any trouble at all,” Patrick answers easily. “I would do anything for David.”

Both of Stevie’s eyebrows raise in surprise and Patrick quickly backtracks. “To help him. Uh, because he’s sick. Help him when he’s sick,” Patrick stutters and hates the smirk on Stevie’s face. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Stevie replies with that infuriating smirk. “You’re good at it, you know.”

“Good at what?” Patrick asks warily.

“Taking care of people,” Stevie replies and Patrick blinks at her in shock.

Patrick supposes he is good at it, taking care of those who are important to him. And he’s always wanted to, helping his parents whenever he could, always feeling the responsibility of making sure they were okay. And of course he wants to take care of David.

 _“If I get sick, you’ll just have to take care of me,”_ a distant David once said and Patrick knows he will, every time.

“But anyway,” Stevie says breaking Patrick out of his thoughts. “I just wanted to say that. I really do appreciate it. We’ve been making a lot of big moves for the franchise and Mr. Rose has been relying on me to handle all of the current renovations happening and it’s been eating up my time.”

Patrick nods his head. “Of course. And if you ever need help, I hope you know I’ll always be there for you as well, Stevie.”

Stevie crinkles up her face, so like David during moments of decent human interaction and Patrick wants to laugh.

“Thanks,” Stevie says, obviously struggling to express her gratitude. “I gotta get back to the motel now, but I was also given instructions to drop this off to you,” Stevie says handing him the brown paper bag.

“What’s this?” Patrick asks curiously.

“A thank you gift from David,” Stevie replies and that annoying smirk is back on her face. “Enjoy,” she says and slinks away, her flannel billowing in the wind behind her.

Patrick opens the bag and peers in, the smell of butter and sugar hitting his nose. With a fond smile, he reaches in and takes out a fresh croissant, the flaky pastry crinkling underneath his fingertips.

He takes a bite and thinks of David.

It’s the best croissant he’s ever eaten.

\\\\\

David walks into the store at noon, his hair coiffed perfectly, shrugging off his winter coat to reveal an immaculate white sweater with blue roses.

“David,” Patrick says warningly from the counter where he’s hunched over his laptop.

“My fever is gone,” David replies. “I ate more of your mother’s soup, which I know I already said but actually is magic, and I’ve only sneezed like three times today,” David says.

Patrick is still unconvinced so David presses on. “We open in a handful of days. I couldn’t stay in my apartment knowing how much there is left to get done. And look at these sketches I made for the holiday decorations that came in,” David says walking up to the cash and taking out sheets of paper from his bag. “I need at least a day to get the garland up.”

“You’re going to hang the garland?” Patrick asks.

“I am going to _supervise_ you putting up the garland,” David amends and Patrick shakes his head with a smile.

“Fine, but if I hear as much as a sniffle from you, you’re going straight home,” Patrick says and David grins at him and shimmies his shoulders.

David does indeed supervise as Patrick stands up on a ladder and tacks up the garland around the store as per David’s vision. It takes a bit of time, but mainly due to the fact that David chose to take his sweater off during the process in order to keep his white sweater safe from wayward pine needles and sap. Patrick finds himself having to re-buffer several times because whenever David flexes to pass Patrick a strip of the thick pine garland, Patrick’s mind went straight to _arms, arms, arms._

“So, we should talk about the guest list,” David says from the windows where he’s arranging small aluminum buckets with plants and small boxes of ornaments.

“Guest list?” Patrick asks, pausing his work on his laptop to look up at David. “What guest list?”

“For the opening,” David replies. “VIPs if you will. A select group of people that’ll experience the store first before we open it up to the general public.”

“Um, can’t we just, open? See who comes in?” Patrick asks confused.

“I think we need to establish a more controlled environment?” David replies. “Something like a soft launch.”

“A soft launch,” Patrick repeats trying his best to keep the humor out of his voice.

“It is a very popular strategy,” David says, pointing his finger at Patrick as if he knows exactly how much joy he’s getting out of this conversation. “We can test the store out on a small group of people and offer a friends and family discount as incentive.”

“Huh,” Patrick says. David looks unsure, playing with his silver rings, biting his bottom lip and Patrick knows that his insecurities have taken up space in his head.

Sometimes he wishes he could take that all away, just tell him, “Hey, you have nothing to worry about! The store is a great success! I should know, I spent two weeks with you in an alternate world and that store looked great!”

But that would absolutely guarantee every chance of ever dating David Rose subsequently be thrown out the window so he goes for the good natured pep talk instead.

“David, I trust you and how you think we should handle the opening, but just as a heads up, many of the townsfolk know about the store’s opening already based on the sign that’s been put up outside the window,” Patrick says pointing behind David.

“We can recant public statements, make up some rumor to keep people occupied,” David says waving his hand. “I’m sure I can get some gossip from Jocelyn.”

Patrick smiles, shakes his head and walks around the counter to David. “David, trust yourself. We’re ready, the store’s ready, and the town is also ready,” Patrick says placing his hands on David’s shoulders. “Seriously, they’re very ready. Darlene’s cousin stopped by yesterday while you were out and very aggressively asked when we were opening.”

“Who the fuck is Darlene?” David asks.

“No clue,” Patrick replies. “But I don’t think we should keep her waiting for too long.”

David takes a deep breath through his nose and squeezes his eyes shut, nodding his head at Patrick. “Okay, you’re right. We’ll just do a normal opening. But I do think we should offer a friends and family discount to a select few. Although Stevie and her dirty raccoon hands will still probably take things anyway,” David says rolling his eyes.

“Noted,” Patrick says squeezing David’s shoulders. David opted to put his sweater back on much to Patrick’s disappointment, but it’s soft and he feels David relaxing underneath his fingertips as he rubs his thumbs in soothing circles into the muscle of David’s shoulder.

“I trust you too, you know,” David breathes out. “You said you trusted me, but I think it’s important for you to know that I trust you just as much.”

Patrick sucks in a breath, his hands pausing on David’s shoulders. David’s trust is a gift, something precious that is earned and to know he has it leaves him a little breathless. Patrick is suddenly aware of how close they’re standing and David is looking at him, his eyes warm and earnest and Patrick falls into them.

Patrick’s eyes fall down to David’s mouth and feels the pull when a loud tapping from behind David interrupts them.

They both turn towards the window and a woman wearing a thick winter jacket with a scowl on her face raps on the window again.

“What’s taking so long?” She demands and David turns to look at Patrick with confusion.

“That’s Darlene’s cousin,” Patrick answers and David looks horrified.

“My God.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is going to be a little crazy for me this week and for a moment I didn't think I would be able to get through my edits until next week but I got through it! I'm glad because I love this chapter ❤️
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Patrick liked to think he had decent taste, but what little confidence he might have had is subsequently thrown out the window the moment he begins his journey into buying furniture. Easily overwhelmed by the seemingly millions of options, Patrick knows he won’t be able to furnish his house on his own. Which is how he finds himself sitting in one of the booths of the café with David, his laptop on the table top between them, a few days before their store’s opening.

“We can wait until after we open, David,” Patrick had said as they locked up the store at 7. “Use the night to unwind and relax.”

“Despite how you may feel about interior design, I personally consider it to be very relaxing,” David replied, walking to the café and expecting Patrick to follow him, which yes of course he did.

“David, I really don’t need a cherry wood secretary desk with an attached hutch,” Patrick says drily.

“That’s because you’re not imagining it correctly,” David harps back. “Just close your eyes and see it in your living room next to the navy velvet fainting couch.”

“All the living room needs right now is a TV and a couch,” Patrick says sternly. “Not a fainting couch. A sectional, and maybe a recliner.”

David crinkles his nose distastefully at him. “You’re not talking about those fugly, bulky, padded things are you?”

“Oh absolutely,” Patrick says nodding his head. “A real and authentic lay-z-boy preferably.”

“I feel personally offended by that,” David replies. “So offended that I would like to move onto the options I’ve selected for your bed so I can rid that hideous image from my head.”

“I was just gonna put my mattress on the floor,” Patrick says, biting his lip as he watches David’s face go on quite the journey from shock to utter disgust.

“If these floors weren’t absolutely disgusting I would fling myself out of this booth right now. You _can’t_ be serious!” David exclaims, hands flailing about.

Patrick shrugs his shoulders and takes a sip of his water. “It would be cost effective.”

“No, no, no, no. Absolutely not. The secretary desk is one thing, there is absolutely no way you’re skimping out on a proper bed frame,” David says pulling the laptop more towards him and begins typing into the search bar. “There’s nothing better than falling into a proper bed after a long day. I had the most amazing hand carved mahogany canopy bed from Milan in my parent’s old mansion that was absolutely divine.”

“Hand carved mahogany canopy bed from Milan,” Patrick repeats. “And how much did that cost?”

“$60,000,” David says waving his hand dismissively and Patrick nearly chokes on one of his french fries.

“$60,000?!” Patrick says and David shrugs his shoulders.

“You couldn’t really put a price on opulence,” he says casually.

“Please don’t tell me you’re trying to find a replica of that bed,” Patrick says faintly.

David snorts and shakes his head. “I am not. Actually it would be impossible anyway. That bed was one of a kind. Although, I do have to admit, it’s not something I would ever buy now.”

“Really?” Patrick asks curiously. “What kind of bed would you buy now then?”

“This one,” David says, turning the laptop around and showing Patrick. It’s a canopy bed, also made of mahogany but fairly simple in its design. All clean, sharp lines with rounded edges with a warm wood finish that makes it look welcoming. The bed looks sturdy and reliable, pricy but manageable, and Patrick can’t deny that this looks like the type of bed he can look forward to falling into. Preferably with someone with dark eyebrows and sharp eyes.

“Buy it,” Patrick says.

“What?” David asks surprised.

“I’ll take it,” Patrick says. “I want it.”

“Are you sure?” David asks and Patrick raises his head to look at him.

“Yes.”

\\\\\

“Fucking hell,” Patrick murmurs to himself in frustration as he tries and fails again to get his internet to work. He’s in his kitchen, sat at his table with his laptop and a now cold cup of tea, pressing every button and every combination of buttons he can think of. He knows he can just call the company and they can walk him through what needs to be done but he’s so sure he just need this one thing to connect-

His thoughts get broken up by his cell phone ringing, reaching for it and hitting the accept button without thinking. “Hello?”

“Patrick?”

Patrick’s body tenses up as he hears Rachel’s voice fill his ear.

“Rachel?” Patrick asks with surprise. “What’s up? Is everything okay?”

Rachel chuckles into the phone and he can just see her shaking her head at him with amusement, her red hair falling in her face.

“Yes, everything is fine. I just thought I should check up on you, see how you’re doing.”

“I’m good,” Patrick says, closing his laptop and pushing it away from him. “Busy with the store and the house.”

“Ah yes, your house, your mom told me all about that. She said you were taking on some of the renovations yourself,” she says with a hint of amusement.

“Yes and I’ve been doing a great job with everything, thank you for asking,” Patrick says with some sass and Rachel just laughs louder.

“If there’s anyone who has the energy to renovate a house generated by the motivation to prove everyone wrong, it’s you,” she says teasingly and Patrick rolls his eyes but silently agrees.

“Just you wait, you’re going to be very impressed by my tiling skills,” he harps back and he can see Rachel’s smirk so clearly in his head. “How are you doing?”

“Good,” she breathes out. “Really good actually. I got a promotion.”

“Rach, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you,” Patrick says, genuinely happy for her.

“Yeah, I’m excited. I also um, moved out of our-my,” she quickly amends. “My apartment.”

Patrick smiles sadly to himself. “Where are you now?”

“Across town, closer to where our parents are actually which you know mine _love,_ ” she says. “Gives mom a reason to just ‘pop in’ whenever.”

“Every mother’s dream,” Patrick says and Rachels hums at him. “How are your parents doing?”

“They’re good too, dad is sulking a little because it’s too cold to golf now and mom’s been busy helping plan Sam’s wedding.”

Sam, Rachel’s cousin, got engaged about a month before they broke up. Before he woke up in the bed of David Rose.

Patrick sighs out, “Rachel-”

“Stop, I know where you’re going to go, so I need you to know that I’m fine,” she says cutting him off. “Honestly Patrick, we’re okay.”

“I know but-”

“No buts,” she says firmly. “Everything that was supposed to happen, happened and we’re both in better places for it.”

“Yeah?” he asks relieved.

“Yes, absolutely. Patrick, we tried so hard,” she says softly. “We tried to make it work and it was never going to work out and that’s okay. Seriously, everything is okay. I feel,” Rachel says hesitantly saying, “happy.”

“You do?” he asks surprised.

“Yes,” Rachel says with a laugh. “God, I’ve been so fucking happy these past few months. I feel like I can do anything.”

“You can,” he says, his throat heavy with emotion. “You can do it all.”

“Yeah,” she breathes out. “Don’t get me wrong, I miss you a lot. You’ve been my best friend since we were 16.”

“Miss you too,” he says softly.

“But I’m good. And I feel great. And I hope you’re feeling the same way.”

“I do, I really like it here in Schitt’s Creek.”

“I’m glad, Patrick. Maybe I can come down and visit you?” She asks and Patrick feels himself smiling. “Yes, you have to. My tiling will look better in person.”

Rachels laughs, and it’s light and it twinkles in his ear and he can’t remember the last time he heard her laugh like that.

“It’s a deal. Okay, I gotta go, I have to start packing for a trip with weekend.”

“Where are you going?” Patrick asks, sipping his tea and grimacing when the cold liquid hits his tongue. 

“Some friends from college are getting together for a weekend at a cabin. You remember Tanya right? My roommate?”

“Yes, I remember Tanya,” Patrick says, the image of Rachel and all of her college friends popping up in his mind. “Long time since you’ve seen her, right?”

“Yeah, all of them really. We’ve all been so busy, but we made it a priority to see each other this year.”

“Good, that sounds fun,” Patrick says as something starts to dig at the back of his mind.

“Yeah, it’ll be good, there are some people I haven’t seen for over 5 years! Tanya said Abby, Jess, and Mark are coming and I think Josh said he’s coming the second day.”

“Josh?” Patrick asks, his attention spiking.

“Yeah, do you remember him? I think you guys met like once. He was the guy I dated for like 5 months before you and I got back together for the 78th time,” she teases but Patrick’s mind is transported back to that moment when he saw Rachel on the sidewalk jogging towards him, a big grin on her face and an even bigger ring on her finger.

“Anyway, I’m packing for this trip, but I don’t know if I can stay at the cabin for the entire weekend, I have a huge project at work-”

“You must stay at the cabin,” Patrick blurts out.

“Huh?” she asks confused and Patrick slaps himself.

Okay, he knows he should be pushing others into make life altering decisions based on a weird, magical tea induced hallucination he had. But if there’s a chance of Rachel getting everything she deserves, shouldn’t he nudge her towards it?

“I just,” Patrick says clearing his throat. “I think you should stay the whole time. It’s just a weekend and you should spend time with your friends and celebrate everything you’ve achieved,” he says. _And what you can have if you let yourself want it._

“Okay,” she says slowly. “I will stay the whole time.”

“Great!” Patrick says trying to keep his excitement to a minimum. “I think you’ll have a great time.”

\\\\\

The day before they’re set to open, Patrick is rushing to make it to the store by 1pm, an hour later than when he was supposed to. He knew he would be cutting it close when he decided to start tiling the backsplash in his kitchen, but he didn’t expect for so many things to go wrong all at once.

One of the boxes with the tiles for his kitchen was severely damaged on route to his house which meant calling the company for a replacement. With what he had he was able to tile most of the kitchen, but then he ended up dropping a bucket of grout onto the floor and spent the little bit of his patience left on cleaning that up.

Now as he drives to the store, he’s sore, tired and cranky and especially anxious because he’s behind on his to-do list.

David had been understanding of course, reassuring Patrick that he could handle things at the store. But that didn’t appease him, the weight of failing on his responsibilities heavy on his shoulders.

He parks his car behind the store and takes a deep breath through his mouth and counts to 10 in his head. He can do this. He can be the stable one, the one who gets it done, the one who fixes everything.

He gets out of the car and walks through the back door, expecting to find David spiraling out of control, kicking himself for not picking up pastries on the way to help distract David’s worries and finds him by the counter, packing ornaments into gift boxes as music plays softly from his phone next to him.

He’s shimmying his shoulders gently to the music, murmuring the lyrics under his breath, clearly unbothered and unworried.

“David?” Patrick calls out gently and David lifts his head up in surprise.

“What are you doing here? I told you to stay home!” David says, turning off the music on his phone.

“I know, but there are some things on my list I wanted to get done before tomorrow,” Patrick says, running a hand through his hair. “Which I don’t even know where I put.”

“Oh,” David says, lifting up a piece of paper that’s next to him. “You mean this list?”

“Yes,” Patrick sighs out, reaching for it. “There’s still enough time to get everything done.”

“There’s no need for that,” David says. “I got it all done.”

Patrick blinks at David with surprise. “What?”

“I got your little list done,” David says waving said list. “I mailed out those forms you filled out last night, called the bank, filed away all the invoices, double checked the expense sheet, updated your fancy inventory spreadsheet tracker thing, and I built the desk in the backroom.”

“You built the desk?” Patrick asks trying not to sound surprised, but David’s eye-roll indicates he wasn’t able to do so.

“Yes I did,” David says with a sniff. “Albeit I think you should take a look at it as a precautionary measure, but there were no leftover screws so I think I did everything correctly. I mean there was an extra bracket leftover, but I think it’ll be okay,” David says waving his hand.

“What about the lights?” Patrick asks weakly and David flips the light switch up behind him, the store now glowing warmly.

“Electrician left about 20 minutes ago. Oh! And I picked up a box of your favorite tea for our new electric kettle in the back,” David replies with a grin and Patrick feels warm all over.

“David you shouldn’t have had to do all of that by yourself. I dropped the ball,” Patrick says guiltily and David shrugs his shoulders.

“Okay, don’t know what that means because I don’t see a ball anywhere. But I didn’t mind. Makes up for me not being here for 2 days.”

“Because you were sick,” Patrick presses on.

“And you had some things at home you had to deal with. Really, it wasn’t a big deal,” David says.

Patrick sighs and asks, “Did you eat lunch at least?”

“I may have sampled some of the granola bars that Rory dropped off,” David says gesturing to the open display box on the counter. “But other than that, I have not had lunch, no.”

“Let me buy you lunch,” Patrick says. “I can run over and pick up something now.”

“Well, I won’t say no to that,” David says with a teasing smirk. “My regular please.”

Patrick makes his way across the street to the café, still upset at himself for disappointing David right before they’re set to open. He’s always been the stable on, the take-charge kind of guy everyone expected him to be.

He’s sulking as he places the order for himself and David, he’s sulking as he takes the to-go bag from Twyla, he’s sulking as he makes his way back to the store, and he’s sulking as he places the bag on the counter next to David.

“Okay, what is this pouty thing going on,” David asks gesturing to Patrick’s face.

“I’m not pouting,” Patrick huffs out as he unpacks their lunch.

“Mm, your face is doing something that screams ‘pouty’,” David says clearing the counter for their lunch. “Why are you upset?”

“I’m not upset, just annoyed at myself,” Patrick says opening his small container of soup. “You shouldn’t have to pick up my slack.”

“Mmmkay, I didn’t pick up your slack because your slack was always up,” David says and Patrick can’t help his lips from twitching. “You know exactly what I mean,” David says pointing his fork at him. “This is a partnership, we run this store _together_ , and that means covering for each other every now and then,” David says but then starts to look unsure. “I mean of course, unless you wanted to double check everything, I think that would be fine. You know, since I don’t really have much experience with this stuff,” David says and Patrick immediately wants to backpedal. “Wait, what?”

“I know I don’t have the greatest track record with running businesses, so I won’t be insulted if you wanted to double check everything,” David says. “I can go and grab your laptop.”

“Wait, no David, there’s no need for that,” Patrick say catching David’s wrist just as he’s about to leave for the back room. “I trust you, I promise.”

“Then what is it?” David asks, brows furrowed.

“I just don’t like disappointing people,” Patrick says and David looks at him carefully.

“Okay, none of that is a thing, but what if I told you I liked finishing up your list?” David’s face is set with determination, a fierce look that Patrick has never seen before.

“What do you mean?” Patrick asks and David squeezes his eyes tightly.

“I don’t, I’m not used to being responsible for something. And I like it? I mean don’t get me wrong, coming to the store at 8am didn’t fill me with much excitement, but when you texted me that you were having a day, I liked the idea of taking care of things, for you,” David says, pulling at his sleeves, avoiding eye contact with Patrick. “You’ve done so much for me, I just wanted to do something for you too.”

Patrick’s eyes rake over David taking in his stiff posture, his fidgeting hands, and knows how difficult it is for David to reveal himself like this. And his words stir something inside of him. He likes taking care of David, wants to do it forever if he can, but he likes the thought of David taking care of him too.

And his mind wanders back to all those months ago, laying sick in bed and falling for David as he brought him his favorite foods and raked his fingers through his hair, smiled down at him, looked at him as if he were the only thing in this world that mattered. And Patrick loves him, because how can he not?

He knows he’s always loved David, since the moment he woke up in that strange bed. And he said it once, when he said goodbye. But it’s different now. Because it’s deeper and true, rooted deep into the ground, the roots spreading through every corner of this small town that ended up saving them both.

“You do, David,” Patrick says, moving his hand from where it’s been gripping David’s wrist to hold onto his hand instead. “You do and have done so much. We’re in this together, right?”

David’s shoulders relax and his eyes go soft and round. “Yes,” David says, squeezing Patrick’s hand in his. “Together.”

\\\\\

It’s snowing by the time Patrick makes it to the house later that night. He and David had dinner together at the café, going over the plan for tomorrow’s opening over a plate of mozzarella sticks. They agreed to end all work related discussions after the last mozzarella stick was eaten, the both of them fighting over it, or at least Patrick pretending to put up a fight for it. They laughed, shared jokes, swapped stories and for a moment Patrick thought that it felt like a date. Until Stevie dropped in, squishing herself beside David in the booth and stealing his french fries. But even then it still felt perfect.

He decided to come to the house when it was evident that he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, thinking he’d might as well tidy up the mess he left behind that morning. He has too much on his mind, too much on his shoulders.

The future. The store. David.

He throws away any stray bits of trash, checks on the tiles he installed, and wipes down his counters with a rag.

His house is nearly complete, Ronnie coming in on Friday with her crew to help set up his new appliances. And then on Monday he’s officially moving in, the few belongings he has at Ray’s already mostly packed up. Some furniture pieces have already made their way to the house, the rest scheduled to be delivered throughout the week. Stevie very generously volunteered to be at the house during times he couldn’t be home to sign off on the deliveries, making sure he noticed her eyeing the refrigerator of cheese as she offered up her services to him.

It’ll be different living in this house by himself, having not done so in many years. And maybe some of the loneliness will creep in every now and then, but knowing in the morning he has David to look forward to makes it all okay.

He does one last thorough sweep of the house before venturing out onto his back porch, the snow coming down a little thicker now. It’s supposed to lighten up by midnight so Patrick isn’t worried about having to shovel tomorrow. So he enjoys it instead, tilting his head up and letting the snowflakes catch onto his eyelashes.

He can see many parties in the future on this back porch once the weather warms up again. Barbecues, dinner with friends, and maybe even a visit from his parents.

He cringes slightly at the thought of his parents, not looking forward to their next conversation where he tells his mother he won’t be home for the holidays. It doesn’t make sense to leave David and the store right after they’ve opened.

He goes back inside and decides the make the call now, not wanting to prolong the inevitable.

“Get it together Brewer,” he murmurs to himself as he takes his phone out of his pocket and settles on his new couch in the living room.

“Hi sweetheart,” his mother says, picking up after the second ring.

“Hey mom,” Patrick says. “How are you doing?”

“Fine, fine,” she says. “Your father and I are watching TV right now, some silly murder-mystery movie. What are you doing my sweet boy?”

“I’m at the house right now, tidying around,” Patrick says running a hand through his hair.

“Oh Patrick, we can’t wait to see it. Maybe we’ll come back down there with you after the holidays,” she says kindly and Patrick winces.

“Yeah,” Patrick says clearing his throat. “About that…”

“Patrick,” his mother says warningly.

“It’s just we open the store tomorrow and we’re going to be busy and I can’t leave David all by himself,” Patrick says. _I also just don’t want to leave him_ , he thinks to himself. “I promise, once things have settled down around here I’ll come back to visit. But I need to stay up here and help out. I have a responsibility to the store and to David,” Patrick finishes.

“Oh my sweet boy,” his mother sighs out from the other line. “You’ve always been responsible to a fault.”

“I’m sorry,” Patrick says gently and his mother hushes him from the other line.

“None of that now. We understand. I can’t say I’m not disappointed that you won’t be with us, but we know that you’re building your life down there. We’re so proud of you,” she says and Patrick swallows thickly.

“Thanks mom,” Patrick says, his throat closing up with emotion.

“It’ll be tough telling Nana you won’t be here though, not to mention Uncle Gary. You know how much he looks forward to singing carols at the piano with you.” Patrick chuckles and shakes his head at the many memories of Uncle Gary sloshing beer every which way while singing very off-key during every Christmas party he’s ever gone to.

“I think everyone will appreciate a break from Uncle Gary’s rendition of Away in a Manger,” Patrick says. “And I promise to send up something nice from the store for Nana. David sourced these really nice knit shawls that I think she’ll love.”

“Oh David! How is David?” his mother asks rather enthusiastically and Patrick finds himself blushing.

“Good, great! He just go over a bad cold last week.”

“Oh no, he was sick?” she asks concerned and Patrick can hear his father in the background say, “I told you!”

“He’s much better, made a full recovery. I actually made him your soup mom,” Patrick says sheepishly.

“Oh!” she says with surprised delight. “Did he like it? Did you make sure to cook down the onions first?”

“Yes, I made sure. And he loved the soup, said it was magical,” Patrick says with a grin.

“That’s a lovely thing to say. He sounds like someone who appreciates a good home cooked meal.”

“I think everyone around here appreciates that,” Patrick says as he grimaces while thinking about the café. “I promised him I would get him some of your carrot cake.”

“You must bring him my cake!” she says excitedly and Patrick laughs. “And some of my oatmeal cookies. Does he enjoy pie?”

“He enjoys everything,” Patrick says fondly. “He’ll appreciate anything you make him.”

“I can’t wait to meet him,” she says lightly. “He sounds wonderful Patrick.”

“He is,” Patrick says quietly. “He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before.”

“Tell me more about him,” his mom says and Patrick does, telling her about every astonishing, impossible, incredible detail that is David Rose.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had a safe Halloween last night! I sure did with some GBBS and gluten free oreos 😂
> 
> Once again, thank you all for your comments! As we gradually reach the end of this story, I can't express to you all how much they have meant to me during these difficult times ❤️
> 
> This is a big week for us here in the states, so if you're eligible to vote, please do so! 
> 
> Have a wonderful Sunday dear friends ❤️

As predicted Patrick doesn’t get much sleep that night, tossing and turning in bed restlessly until 5 in the morning when he decides going on an early morning hike might help. Twyla mentioned a trail a couple of weeks back in passing, Patrick keeping that nugget of information in the back of his mind should he ever need a hike to help clear his mind.

He repeatedly tells himself that this is a good idea as the bitter December chill bites at his skin, pushing down the discomfort as cold air fills his lungs with every breath. As expected there’s no one else on the trail, the winter frost keeping sane people in their warm beds. But Patrick finds himself breathing a little easier as he continues on, his mind clearing away. Frozen leaves crunch underneath his feet as he reaches the lookout point, the sun beginning to peak in through the trees.

It’s quite a breathtaking view, barren treetops going on for miles and miles below him. A strong gust of blows past him, Patrick reaching up to pull his toque down to cover his ears. He sits down on a large rock, wincing as the frigid stone digs into his skin before the cold wears away.

He needs to get to the store by 8 to finish tidying up for opening day, David expected to stroll in by 9.

 _David,_ Patrick thinks to himself as he lets the warmth of his memories flood over him.

It’s been so many weeks now since he decided to pack up his life and move to Schitt’s Creek to chase after a dream. A beautiful dream with dark, expressive eyebrows and a smile that can bring anyone down to their knees.

He had a plan. Move to Schitt’s Creek, build a home, woo David Rose. He’s accomplished the first two, but his third goal has unfortunately been placed on the back burner these last few weeks. He can’t fault himself really. It’s a lot of work renovating a home while simultaneously building a business. But still it’s frustrating to know how much time he’s wasting not wooing David Rose.

Not that he isn’t happy with where they are now. When he first moved to Schitt’s Creek, David was a memory, an intangible dream. Now David was more than that. He was his friend.

Patrick scrubs his face with his hand, letting out a deep breath.

He needs to make a move soon. A small gesture of some sort. Anything to make it clear that Patrick Brewer is very much interested in David Rose.

 _Easy,_ Patrick thinks to himself as he stands from the rock and looks out into the world that’s waking up. _You got this Brewer._

\\\\\

Patrick makes it to the store by 8 and is very much surprised to see David inside, moving about quickly, a flurry of black zooming around the store.

“David?” Patrick calls out from the door and David immediately stops moving.

“Oh, hi,” David says breathlessly. “I wasn’t expecting you until 8.”

“It is 8,” Patrick replies with a smile. “How long have you been here?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure,” David says, his hands gesturing around. “I kind of just wandered over here the moment I woke up. Just wanted to get a head start for today,” David says uneasily.

“Have you swept the floors?” Patrick asks and laughs when David’s face crinkles. “Got it. I’ll do it right now.”

“Thank you so much,” David rushes out. “I’m going to finish plating the mini cupcakes and opening the wine bottles.”

They work together efficiently, moving past each other with an easiness that has formed throughout the weeks. From the corner of his eye, Patrick can see a line beginning to form outside despite it being very cold outside, more and more citizens of Schitt’s Creek coming together in anticipation for when the store opens at 10.

“Okay, okay, okay,” David mumbles under his breath after one last check around the store. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Patrick teases and David squints at him with supposed contempt, but the quirk in his lips gives him away.

“It’s almost time, David,” Patrick says gently.

“I know,” David says with a deep breath. “And the line outside is not helping me with my anxiety.”

“It’ll be fine,” Patrick reassures him. “You’re going to be great.”

David flushes and Patrick thinks for the thousandth time how beautiful he looks. “Are we ready to do this?” David asks, excitement in his voice.

“Open the doors,” Patrick replies and then their day begins.

They are ready, more than ready as a steady stream of people enter the store, bundled up in their winter coats, the room quickly filling up with happy chatter. David goes around the room and helps as many people as he can, answering questions and offering his recommendations. Patrick stands by the register and keeps an eye on the crowd, answering questions here and there as well.

When the first customer comes up, Patrick smiles at them warmly, carefully placing one of their hand knit scarves into a tote bag.

“Great choice,” he says kindly. “These are all hand crafted by a woman over in Elm Glen.”

“Yes, your partner told me! Couldn’t resist taking one for myself, they’re so soft. I can’t tell you how happy I am that this little store has opened up. It feels like our community is really bustling now!” The woman says with a smile.

“I’m happy to hear that,” Patrick replies, taking her credit card and swiping it on the machine. “David put a lot of work into curating all these products to help serve the community.”

“Tell him he’s done a wonderful job. And I look forward to coming back,” she says with a smile and a small wave, taking her tote bag with her and the receipt he hands her. Patrick smiles after her, pride swelling in his chest.

He looks around the room to find David, catches his eye and they both smile at each other, an unspoken agreement of, _look at what we made._

David’s attention is stolen by someone who asks him about the bath salts the store carries and Patrick watches him thrive, watches him be the confident and beautiful man the world is lucky to see.

Then it suddenly dawns on him that the customer he just rung up was their first. He quickly prints out another copy of the receipt and stows it away in the drawer underneath the register just as their second customer comes up with an arm full of products.

He’ll give the receipt to David later, maybe over some celebratory champagne at the café. Maybe Patrick will even ask David out on date.

It seems like anything is possible at this moment.

\\\\\

The day doesn’t get any slower, and by 4pm, Patrick begins to feel the ache in his feet. Twyla while on her lunch break stopped by the store to also browse around, but made sure to bring lunch for the two of them, handing over the plastic bag to Patrick over the cash.

“On the house,” she says with a wink. “My way of saying congrats!”

Patrick makes sure she leaves with a free bottle of wine. Neither of them have been able to take a break yet, not even a moment to bicker about who should eat their lunch first.

Stevie drops by, helping out by replenishing the wine and the cupcakes, although she does so while drinking several cups. Patrick makes sure she does not get a free bottle of wine.

When there’s a slight lull in activity, Patrick thinks this might be the best time to coax David into eating his sandwich first when he watches David visibly stiffen in the middle of a conversation with a customer. Patrick follows his eyesight to the front door, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline as he takes in the other three Roses standing in their store.

“Oh my God, David,” Alexis says with awe, looking around the store with wide eyes.

“Wow,” Johnny Rose says shocked.

“Oh, David,” Moira Rose sighs out with a gentle smile.

“Excuse me,” David says to the customer and quickly makes his way to his family. “What are you doing here?” He hisses at them.

“We came to support you on your opening night my dear,” his mother says, kissing his cheek.

“What about the show? I thought you were filming that Christmas special this week,” David asks, his brows furrowed.

“We wrapped up early and quickly made our way here so that we could be here to support our eldest bébé,” Mrs. Rose says.

“We’ve rented a house for the month through the holidays until we have to get back to California for your mother’s shooting schedule. And after that we’ll be heading to New York for a bit,” Mr. Rose adds.

“And I have to like fly back out on Friday, Christensen has this huge event for the debut of his limited Youtube mini series that I have to work. But I’ll be back again in three weeks straight through until New Years,” Alexis says. “Oh my God what is that yummy smell?” Alexis asks reaching for one of the candles by the window display.

“Son, look what you’ve done with the place,” his father says emotionally. “I can’t believe you built this on your own!”

“Okay, you don’t have to sound that amazed,” David replies with a grimace. “But it wasn’t on my own. I have a partner, remember?”

“Oh yes, how can we forget Parker,” his mother says.

“Patrick, his name is Patrick, and he’s right over there,” David says and suddenly he’s pointing at him and all the Roses have turned towards Patrick and he feels like he wants to hide.

With an awkward cough, Patrick walks around the counter, rubbing his hands on his jeans nervously.

“Patrick, I’d like you to meet my family,” David says with a face that shows he very much does not.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Rose,” he says holding out his hand for them to shake. “And you too, Alexis. David has told me so much about you.”

“Hm, only good things I hope,” Alexis says tapping David on the nose.

“Only the best,” Patrick replies with a grin and Alexis preens.

“Well this was great, but we really need to get back to work so maybe you can leave so I can continue to process why the fuck you’re here-” David says trying to usher his family out, but they ignore him and walk further into the store.

“Come now David, we only just arrived. And I see several bottles of wine that need to be sampled,” Mrs. Rose says.

“Are these cupcakes from Ivan?” Mr. Rose asks as he begins the peel the paper off of one.

“Oh my God, David, these lip balms are like so good. Do they come in over flavors?” Alexis asks from the cash, already opening up another tube.

“Oh my God, I’m in my own personal hell,” David mumbles to himself.

“You didn’t know they were coming?” Patrick asks.

“Of course not! I mean, I mentioned the opening to my dad last week, but I didn’t expect him to remember that!” David replies, watching his family warily.

“Are you not happy that they’re here?” Patrick asks. He knows David has a rather interesting relationship with his family, but the bits and pieces he’s been able to gather sounded like they were all in a much healthier place.

David bites his bottom lip and after a few seconds, he shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. I guess I’m just surprised.”

David watches his family with a tiny smile on his face, and as the surprise begins to wear off, his face settles into something softer. Patrick thinks it looks a lot like relief.

Patrick smiles and reaches out to squeeze David’s arm. “Go show them what you’ve built.”

David turns and looks at him, his smile smooshed to the side. “What we’ve built”

Patrick meets his eyes and does what he can to make sure David sees the truth of him in them. “Yes.”

\\\\\

David’s family is very much the same as Patrick remembers them from the alternate life. Mrs. Rose walks around the space and dazzles everyone in her way, Mr. Rose speaks to many of the townsfolk he knows, laughing with them loudly as he regales them with stories of their recent adventures. Alexis goes around sampling everything, making sure to boop David on the nose every chance she gets.

David has a scowl on his face, but Patrick knows it’s rather performative from the way David’s eyes crinkle when he thinks no one is looking. But of course Patrick notices because he’s always looking at David.

David is able to get his family leave the store around 6, just as they’re about to close the store for the day, making sure they pay for the seemingly endless products his sister and mother have seemed to have sampled, Patrick ringing them up with a smile as Alexis very obviously flirts with him. He’s polite as ever, smiling at her warmly, but being firm in making sure it’s obvious that he’s not interested. And when Patrick is distracted for a moment as he watches David across the room, Alexis coughing daintily and giving him a rather terrible wink, he tries to tamp down the blush he can feel climbing up his face.

“Yes, I will meet you at the café for dinner,” David says as he guides his family out of the store. “Out now, I have a business to run."

“David, could you please get mummy another wedge of that brie?” Mrs. Rose calls out and David closes the door behind them.

Patrick finished ringing up the last few customers of the day, David walking around and tidying up what he can.

At 6:30, Patrick locks the door and flips the sign to closed, turning around to take in the store, the proud ache in his bones making him sag with relief.

“Well that was a success,” David says picking up the empty plastic wine cups.

“It was,” Patrick says, coming up to stand next to him to help. “And to think you wanted to keep this an exclusive event.”

“Okay, there’s nothing wrong with some exclusivity,” David harps back. “It would have prevented me from having a rather uncomfortable conversation with Roland about his feet,” David says with a shiver.

“It’s a good thing you survived to tell the tale,” Patrick says bumping his hip into David.

“Just barely,” David replies and Patrick chuckles. “Listen, I know it seems customary for two business partners to get dinner after a very successful day of work, but I don’t know if I’m okay with subjecting you to my family’s lunacy,” David says disappointedly.

“It’s okay, David,” Patrick says. “You should have dinner with them, you haven’t seen them for a while now.”

David still looks disappointed and Patrick feels the same way having wanted to take advantage of the high of the day’s success as a way of possibly making a move tonight at the café.

 _But maybe that moment can be now_ , Patrick thinks to himself. It’s just the two of them, the lights casting a warm glow around them, the winter sky dark outside the windows, and David is smiling gently at him.

He’s been here before, standing in the soft glow of lights with David in the middle of the store they built together, Patrick wanting so badly to kiss him but not feeling brave enough.

He feels a little bit brave now.

“David?” Patrick breathes out and David turns to him fully. “Hm?”

Patrick looks into David’s eyes, watches as he grazes over his face and feels the pull in his gut when someone raps on the window behind them.

They both quickly turn around and find Jocelyn standing outside. “Sorry boys! I think I may have forgotten my earmuffs inside!”

Patrick hears David growl under his breath and chuckles at him. “Why don’t you go handle Jocelyn and I’ll finish cleaning up.”

David groans and says, “Can’t we pretend like we can’t see her?”

“No, David,” Patrick says waving back at her. “It’s important to maintain a positive relationship with customers. Especially someone who bought several bottles of our massage oil.”

David’s face goes on a journey before settling on disgust. “I resent you for telling me that.”

\\\\\

They are unable to locate Jocelyn’s earmuffs and after some careful consideration, Jocelyn deduces that she left them at the café.

“Congrats again on the store boys! Rollie and I will be using our purchases later tonight,” she says with a clumsy wink and Patrick snickers at the face David makes. They work together to finish cleaning up, replenishing products and sweeping the floor.

At 8 o’clock, they lock the store up and stand out on the sidewalk together, turned towards each other with tired smiles on their faces.

“And we do it all again tomorrow,” Patrick says, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Mhm, at 9am now,” David says wryly.

“I won’t expect you until 10,” Patrick teases and David laughs.

“You know me so well,” David says, his eyes crinkled together.

Patrick grins at him and just feels, God, he just feels so happy.

“Congratulations, David,” Patrick says opening up his arms.

“Congratulations to you,” David replies, stepping into Patrick’s arms and wrapping himself up in his embrace.

Patrick wishes they weren’t wearing their winter coats so that he could feel the heat of David’s body against his, but he can feel his breath on his neck and shivers, holding onto this moment for as long as he can.

Patrick closes his eyes, wanting to burrow deeper into David when a voice cuts through the night.

“David! It’s not courteous to keep your family waiting!” Mrs. Rose calls out from the front of the café.

“Oh my God,” David whispers out as Patrick’s body begins to shake with laughter. “Can the ground swallow me up now?”

“You’re not getting out of coming to work tomorrow, David,” Patrick says pulling away from David as much as it pains him to do so. “Go enjoy dinner with your family.”

David bites his bottom lip, squeezes his eyes shut and nods his head, taking a step back from Patrick.

“I’ll see you in the morning?” David asks and Patrick nods his head, excited to see David every morning from now on.

“I’ll see you in the morning, goodnight David,” Patrick says softly and turns to walk to his car.

_I’ll make my move tomorrow._

\\\\\

He doesn’t make his move. Between the residual excitement of opening day and the demand of holiday shopping, it’s busy at the store for the next few days. Which is good, really good. But it derails many of Patrick’s plans including his house renovation schedule. He’s not too behind, but it does stress him out a little bit. But David notices and makes sure to brew him a cup of his favorite tea whenever he can and Patrick thinks thinks it’s not all that bad.

Throughout the week, each member of the Rose family drops by much to David’s annoyance. Mrs. Rose drops by to pick up that extra wedge of brie, Mr. Rose swings by with Stevie after a meeting at the motel, and Alexis perches herself on top of the counter, telling customers her opinion on all the products the store sells.

And despite a scowl here and there, Patrick can tell that David is happy his family is here. For the most part.

“So, like Patrick,” Alexis says from her perch. “What’s it been like working with David? It’s okay to be totally and completely honest, this is a safe space,” she says with a glint in her eye.

“Swallow sand, Alexis,” David says from the back shelf where he’s restocking the candles.

“It’s been great,” Patrick says honestly, shooting David a wink. “No complaints.”

Alexis hums at him. “That’s good because like David tends to get really worked up about everything and his left eyebrow kind of starts to twitch a lot,” Alexis says but is swiftly cut off by David coming to stand in front of him.

“Um, I don’t know what you’re doing,” David says gesturing widely at Alexis. “But this is a place of business and I will not be ridiculed here.”

“Relax I’m only teasing,” Alexis says rolling her eyes. “And your cute button of a business partner knows that.”

“Okay I don’t know where that came from,” David says. “but put it in a box and stow it away Alexis. Also I thought you were going to take some cute pics in the store for our Instagram account.”

“Ugh, fine David! But you need to be out of the frame,” Alexis says hopping off the counter and moving to the back wall where David is. “The bags under your eyes look more pronounced in this light.”

“Don’t make me shove this candle-”

“Hi! Welcome to Rose Apothecary, how can I help you today?” Patrick asks loudly when a customer walks in, cutting David off. And the day continues just like that, Alexis and David bickering while Patrick watches with amusement by the counter.

But on Friday when David comes in at 10 after dropping Alexis off at the airport, there’s an obvious cloud of anxious energy that follows David around, Patrick watching him with worried eyes.

“Everything okay?” Patrick asks gently as David goes around the store, rearranging products absentmindedly.

“Yeah, yeah, yup, mhm,” David says nodding his head quickly. “Um, I just didn’t like waking up so early to drive Alexis to the airport,” he says with a huff. “She also raided my fridge last night and left a mess and I’m almost positive that she stole more lip balms than she’s admitting to.”

David says all this with a scowl on his face, but there isn’t much bite to his words. He’s playing with the silver rings on his fingers, his eyebrows knit tightly together.

Patrick smiles softly at him and says, “She’ll be back in three weeks.”

David stops moving, just stands by one of the center tables, fidgeting with a bottle of toner. He takes a deep breath, his shoulders dropping on the exhale. “I know. I just, it’s not easy to,” David says, struggling to find the words. But Patrick knows.

“It’s okay,” Patrick replies. “I know.”

And David smiles at him, shy and tired and Patrick lets him tell him about the time he rescued Alexis in Montenegro when she was 16. And during his break, he makes sure to bring David back a caramel macchiato, skim, two sweetners with a sprinkle of coco powder.

At 3pm, he runs to the house to let Ronnie and her crew in to install his appliances, David reassuring him that he doesn’t mind locking up on his own.

“Go,” David says practically pushing him out the door. “You don’t want to get on Ronnie’s bad side by being late. Although it seems like you’ve already managed to get there anyway.”

The installation goes smoothly, Patrick expressing his undying gratitude towards her.

“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done these last few weeks Ronnie,” Patrick says gratefully, extending his hand out towards her. “I wouldn’t have gotten the house together this quickly without you.”

“You can show some of that appreciation by dropping off some of that bleu cheese,” she says with a smirk, shaking his hand reluctantly. Patrick makes sure to set some that aside for her as well as gifts for her crew.

The house is finally ready to be moved into. It’s definitely surreal knowing what this house looked like to what it looks like now.

The rooms are now bright and airy, the windows gleaming in the sunlight. The newly refurbished porch feels sturdy under his feet and the grass on the front lawn is even and neat. And of course the house is still an ongoing project, little bits and pieces left to do, but for now it’s done and he’s ready to move forward to whatever awaits him.

He spends his last night at Ray’s lounging on the bed and plucking at his guitar softly, letting the week unravel around him. There’s a comfortable ache in his bones and Patrick can’t wait to fall into his bed at the house, imagining his body just melting into the mattress tomorrow night.

Patrick is able to rope Stevie into helping him get the house ready, David also agreeing to lend a helping hand. For a moment he thought against asking David, thinking he wouldn’t want to use the day off to help move and assemble furniture. But David surprises him by offering up his time, saying, “I can’t expect you and Stevie to understand the delicate art of interior design. But I do expect payment in pizza.”

Patrick puts his guitar down and lays back, his head pillowed by his hands. Starting tomorrow he’ll have an entire house to himself, more privacy than he’s ever been used to and it’s quite daunting to thinking about. Suddenly the door bursts open and Ray is standing there with a large grin on his face.

“Patrick! Would you like some ice cream? I bought a very fancy pint of gelato at the store the other day and I thought it might be a great way to celebrate your send off!”

“Ice cream sounds great, Ray. I’ll be done in a minute,” Patrick says kindly and Ray nods his head enthusiastically, walking away while leaving the door wide open.

 _Then again, maybe some privacy won’t be so bad_ , he thinks to himself as he makes his way downstairs.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a wonderful week!
> 
> It was a big one for us here in the states and although there's still so much for all of us to do, there is definitely a little more relief in all of us. 
> 
> We're so close to the end now! Can't wait for you all to reach its conclusion soon.
> 
> Best wishes dear friends

“An inch to the right,” David says from the couch, sipping on his coffee as he directs Patrick and Stevie as they try to mount the TV above the fireplace. They’ve been moving and organizing for close to 4 hours now, unpacking the few boxes of belongings Patrick had and assembling his new furniture.

“David, the mount is already screwed in,” Patrick says as he drills in another screw.

“Just thought you should know your TV isn’t perfectly centered,” David replies.

“It would have been perfectly centered if you had said something sooner,” Stevie harps back.

“I didn’t want to interrupt, you were both very focused,” David says with a dainty shrug and Stevie rolls her eyes.

“Yes, just like you’ve been focused on testing out the couch. What’s your verdict? Does it pass your butt comfort test?” Stevie shoots back and David throws her the middle finger.

“As a matter of fact it does,” he says with a sniff. “Not that I’m surprised because I picked this couch out myself.”

“How much of your furniture was chosen by David?” Stevie asks Patrick as she hands him another screw.

“I think a good 60% of it,” Patrick replies. “To be honest I’m not entirely sure of what else he might have bought except that it has left a sizable dent on my credit card statement.”

“I’ll have you know I was _very_ modest with my purchases despite the fact that you said 8 words that anyone would lose any semblance of sanity over,” David says pointing at Patrick.

“What did he say?” Stevie asks with a stifled grin.

“I trust your vision, here’s my credit card,” David says and Stevie snorts. “I only bought what was absolutely necessary,” he says defensively. “I didn’t even consider buying the marble and brass credenza even though it would have looked absolutely lovely in your front entrance.”

“Thank you for restraining yourself David,” Patrick says. “To express my gratitude, why don’t I give you my credit card and you can go pick up some pizza for lunch?”

David pinches his face together, but he gets up from the couch with a flourish and makes his way to the front door. “Tell you what, pizza is on me. Give your credit card a break.”

“So generous,” Patrick fires back at David and he turns his head over his shoulder and gives him an infuriatingly hot smirk.

Once he’s out the door, Stevie turns towards Patrick, a shit-eating grin on her face. “So, David furnished your new house?”

“He helped me, yes,” Patrick says carefully. “I’ve never been good with this stuff and I knew I could trust David. For the most part,” he adds.

“Hm,” Stevie hums at him, still with that grin.

“What?” Patrick huffs out and Stevie shrugs her shoulders innocently. “Nothing, just curious.”

“What’s curious?” Patrick asks suspiciously.

“It’s just that I wouldn’t let _anybody_ help furnish my home if they weren’t you know,” Stevie says with a sly grin. “Important or something.”

Patrick steps away from the mount to inspect his work and to also avoid Stevie’s knowing look. He knows what she’s insinuating and he can’t say she isn’t wrong. He let David help him furnish his house because he knows David has good taste and he trusts him. But he knows that a small part of him also let him do it in hopes that a little piece of David will be in the house with him.

He’s thought about the alternate life a few times. He thinks that the other David and Patrick have moved into their new home by now, continuing their marriage in some cozy cottage in the outskirts of town, happy and in love, everything anyone would want for their life. He wants just that too.

“What would you do if you woke up in a different life?” He asks turning towards her, his heart racing.

“Go back to sleep,” she says and Patrick laughs because it’s comforting to know that much like David, Stevie will also always be the same in any life. He wasn’t planning on telling anyone ever, but if this Stevie is similar like the other, maybe she’ll be just as understanding as well?

Patrick takes a deep breath. “What if you woke up in a different life and shown everything you could have ever wanted without realizing that’s what you wanted? And then afterwards you woke up back in your world without it,” Patrick asks swallowing hard, the hurt of losing David coming back to him. “What would you do?”

“Was I really happy in this life?” Stevie asks.

Patrick nods. “Very.”

“Well I’d be pissed,” she replies. “Getting to see yourself happy and then losing it? Seems cruel.”

“But then what? Would you go on with your life like you’ve always had?” Patrick presses on.

Stevie pauses for a moment, her face pensive. “No. If it were possible to have everything in the other life, that means it would be possible to have it here.”

“Yeah, it was just a taste of happiness so that you can go looking for it,” Patrick says, repeating Elodie’s words. “What you can have if you allow yourself to want it.”

“But what what does that have to do with David furnishing your house?” Stevie asks confused.

Patrick smiles at her, secret and true. “Everything.”

Stevie looks at him carefully, her eyebrows knit together. Patrick pulls at his fingers and begins counting in his head when her face unravels with understanding. “Wait, you can't be serious.”

Patrick shrugs his shoulders. 

"That's impossible," Stevie says and Patrick nods his head. "I know."

"Oh my God," she breathes out with shock and Patrick chuckles.

“I don’t think he had anything to do with it,” Patrick says as he watches her plop down on his couch.

“So you’re saying that you, by some weird force in the universe, lived in some different life?” Stevie asks.

“Yeah,” Patrick says sitting next to her, the weight of his secret lifting off his shoulders a bit. “For about two weeks.”

“And David was there? As what, your business partner and boyfriend?”

“Business partner yes, boyfriend no,” Patrick says shaking his head. “He was actually my husband.”

“Husband?!” Stevie shouts before falling into giggles. “You _married_ David?”

“Yes I did,” Patrick says rather proudly. “Laugh all you want,” he says flatly as he watches Stevie clutch her stomach.

“So what, you woke up back in this world and decided to move to Schitt’s Creek to chase after some dream life?” Stevie asks wiping her eyes.

“Yes,” Patrick sighs out, knowing how insane his life sounds right now.

“And because of David?”

Patrick looks away blushing, clearing his throat awkwardly. “He was part of the reason, yes.”

“But he wasn’t the only reason?”

“No,” Patrick says shaking his head. “Don’t get me wrong, falling in love with David Rose definitely provided some deep motivation, but I moved away because I just couldn’t do it anymore,” he says pulling at his fingers. “I was um, actually engaged, to a woman before I moved down here. I was with her since high school, dating on and off until I got tired of hearing everyone pressuring me to propose. It seemed like the next logical step. But planning a wedding didn’t help me feel better, it actually made me feel worse, like I was trapped. And then one day I drank this magic tea, woke up in a bed I shared with David Rose and everything else clicked into place,” Patrick says taking a deep breath. “It’s crazy, trust me I know and I’ve seriously questioned my sanity. But whether or not it was real, it still made me realize that I was willing to sacrifice my own happiness if it meant everyone around me was happy. And I didn’t want to live like that anymore,” Patrick finishes, the weight of everyone’s else happiness still pressed into his skin.

Patrick stares down at his hands, but he can feel Stevie’s gaze on him. He shifts uncomfortably, feeling too raw and too open. “I know this is fucking crazy but-”

“I believe you,” she says, cutting him off.

Patrick turns to her in surprise. “You do?”

Stevie nods her head. “I haven’t known you for long, but from what I can tell you’re a level-headed guy. You don’t seem like the type of person to make this shit up.”

Patrick lets out a wet laugh. “No, I’m definitely not creative enough to make this up.”

“So, you’re here,” Stevie says.

“I’m here.”

“And you’re in love with David,” she says and Patrick blushes harder.

“If you could keep that between just the two of us that would be great,” Patrick mumbles and Stevie smirks.

“Oh don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” she says and Patrick gives her a grateful nod. “How is that coming along?”

“Not great,” Patrick sighs out. “We’ve both been too busy for me to make a move. I'm not even sure David is interested,” Patrick says scrubbing his face with his hand.

Stevie snorts from beside him and he looks at her confused. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Stevie says standing up from the couch. “Let’s start working on the kitchen. I could use a beer,” she says and Patrick is confused by her sudden change in topic.

“A beer sounds like a great idea,” Patrick says following her.

But as they reach the kitchen, Stevie turns around suddenly, Patrick stopping short behind her.

“I know life has been super weird, but I think you made the right decision coming here,” she says, Patrick’s eyebrows raising up to his hairline. She gives him one more smirk, turns on her heel and walks into the kitchen, Patrick blinking at her retreating back.

\\\\\

David comes back with two pies of pizza as Patrick and Stevie chat at his kitchen table, having done their best to clear the mess that has seemingly taken over. The kitchen has become the gathering room of just _stuff:_ empty cardboard boxes, large plastic totes, take out containers stacked in the sink haphazardly and bits and pieces of trash just littered everywhere. Patrick dreads having to clean it all up eventually, but for now he pushes it to the back of his mind in favor of pizza.

“Having fun without me?” David asks setting the boxes down.

“Always,” Stevie says taking another swig of her beer. “So, what’s next?”

“My bedroom upstairs, we just have to put the dresser together and the bulk of the work will be done,” Patrick says opening one of the boxes. “The furniture for the guest bedroom should be here after Christmas.”

David visibly shivers. “You mean that atrocious excuse of a bed?”

“It’s just for the guest bedroom and it was under my budget, which was very much welcomed after how much I spent on my bed.” Said bed is all set up, ready to be covered with sheets and a comforter.

“A very well-made and impeccably designed bed that checks off in both style and function,” David reminds him. “But anyway, after pizza, why don’t you two go up and put that thing together while I tidy up the kitchen?” David asks, taking a bite of his slice.

“Your attempts at trying to get out of manual labor is becoming more obvious David,” Stevie says and David rolls his eyes at her.

“We all know I would just get in the way,” David says waving her off.

“I don’t know David,” Patrick interjects. “I’m still impressed by the desk you put together at the store. All by yourself too.”

“A brief moment of optimism fueled adrenaline,” David answers easily. “Which has all worn off,” he says and Patrick and Stevie laugh at him. “Besides this room is an absolute sty so if anything I’ve volunteered myself for the worser of the two.”

The dresser takes a little longer than expect to put together, mainly because Stevie keeps making passive comments about Patrick’s feelings for David, Patrick looking over his shoulder every 5 minutes to make sure David isn’t nearby.

By the time they’re done, they make their way back downstairs, Patrick flushed from embarrassment and Stevie’s face glowing with humor.

“It’s concerning how much joy you get out of my discomfort,” Patrick grumbles while Stevie snickers behind him.

His body is tense with stress and all he wants is to pull another beer out of the fridge and relax on the couch, but he stops short in the doorway into the kitchen as he takes in the sight in front of him.

“What is it-oh my God,” Stevie murmurs to himself, her eyes wide as well.

His counters are clean and all the empty boxes have been thrown out. Next to his stove is a ceramic pot with wooden utensils that Patrick recognizes are from their store as well as a metal tea rack, his favorite box front and center. Hanging off the oven door are two blue dish towels as well as a matching pair of oven mitts. By the sink is a wooden dish rack, a soap dispenser, and a sponge holder. On the kitchen table is a fresh bouquet of flowers, beautiful roses in a simple white vase. His table stands by a bay window with an attached bench that Patrick was just going to throw a blanket on. But David has placed a long, light gray bench cushion with matching throw pillows and Rose Apothecary candles along the ledge of the window. There are place mats on the table as well as gleaming white plates and cutlery set up with meticulous style.

It feels lived in. Like a home. 

His home.

David is by the counter peering into what looks to be a crockpot, quickly closing the lid when he notices Patrick and Stevie.

“Dammit, I was hoping I had 10 more minutes,” David says sheepishly. “Um, surprise?”

“David,” Patrick breathes out, walking around the space. “You did all this?”

“Like I said, I take great joy in interior design,” David says, his smile smushed to the side.

“David, this is too much,” Patrick says but David shakes his head, cutting him off.

“Consider it my housewarming present,” David replies stepping towards Patrick. “I know between the store and moving you probably didn’t have enough time to buy everything you needed in order to survive, so I made a trip to get you some more dishes and pans. I was also going to put up some lights out back,” he says gesturing to a cardboard box near the door to his back porch. “I found these really nice Edison bulb string lights that I think will look great outside. And of course you recognize some things from the store that I thought would mesh well with the aesthetic of your kitchen. Before you ask, yes I did purchase them with my own money,” David says with a twinkle in his eye.

“David, I don’t know what to say,” Patrick says, his throat closing up with emotion. “This is, this just so-”

“You cooked?” Stevie says from the crockpot, stirring the inside with a spoon.

“Oh my God, it needs to simmer for 7 more minutes!” David says rushing over to her and slapping her hands away.

“Just let me have a taste,” Stevie whines as David tries to push her away with his hip.

Patrick watches the two of them bicker, his heart swelling up out of his chest, just so overwhelmed with love for the both of them really. His friends, his two best friends.

And David, just. He can’t find the words for what he’s feeling for him right now.

He’s never felt this way for someone before, never felt so open and safe in the presence of someone who sees him and wants to take care of him.

“ _Urgh_! Did you just get chicken in my fucking _hair_?” David shouts at Stevie as she laughs at him.

 _I found you,_ he thinks to himself as he watches David chase Stevie around his kitchen with a wooden spoon. _I found you._

\\\\\

The Crockpot is also a gift, David spending about 10 minutes talking about its transformative power.

“You put a bunch of stuff in it in the morning and by the time you get home, you have a full meal,” David says spearing a piece of chicken breast with his fork. “Who would have known?”

“Lots of people,” Stevie says around her bite of chicken pot pie casserole. “A lot of people know.”

David flicks a piece of bread at her head and Patrick chuckles. “This is really good David,” Patrick says and David preens at the compliment. “I can’t believe you made this.”

“Okay, I have been living on my own for several months now, I do know how to take care of myself,” David says with his usual snark.

“David, you thought boiling water meant heating up the pot first,” Stevie says with a smirk and David glowers at her.

“That was one time and you swore to never speak of it again,” he says pointing his fork at her.

“I don’t remember making such a promise,” Stevie harps back and David actually growls at her.

“Anyway, I really appreciate what you both have done for me today,” Patrick says interjecting. “Seriously, I owe you both a lot.”

“Well, I for one appreciate the gratitude,” David says lifting up his wine glass. “To your new house.”

“To what you can have if you allow yourself to want it,” Stevie says lifting her beer bottle, meeting Patrick’s eyes across the table with a smirk.

“That was surprisingly insightful Stevie,” David says with surprise and Stevie’s smile widens.

“Thanks, someone said that to me recently and I just thought it might be good advice we could all use,” she says innocently and Patrick narrows his eyes at her.

“To friends,” Patrick says raising his bottle, meeting Stevie’s gaze. “And to happiness.”

“Here, here,” Stevie says and takes a deep sip of her beer, her eyes laughing at Patrick.

\\\\\

Stevie and David leave Patrick’s house at 11pm, having stayed an extra two hours to lounge around in his living, watching a movie as they rested their tired bodies after a long day of work. Stevie left first, yawning exaggeratedly out the door, sending a wink towards Patrick behind David’s back. God, everyone has just been winking at him lately.

He walks David to his car, pulling his jacket closer to him as the December night chill blows past them.

“I really can’t thank you enough for what you did, David,” Patrick says sincerely as they stand outside of David’s Lincoln.

“This is a big thing to celebrate and I thought a big gesture was necessary,” David says, waving his hand, his cheek dimpled with a smile that Patrick desperately wants to kiss.

“Still, this is just above and beyond,” Patrick says shoving his hands into his pockets.

David shrugs his shoulders. “What are friends for?”

And Patrick grins, wide and honest feels his gut flip. “You’re a good friend, David Rose.”

“Hm, if you can just remember that the next time you want me to go into the store super early, that would be great,” David says opening his car door.

“Noted,” Patrick says leaning down into the window David just rolled down. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

David smiles softly at him and nods his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight Patrick.”

“Night David,” Patrick says leaning away and watching David pull out of his drive way, waving at him until he’s gone from his sight.

Patrick scurries back into the house, turning off all the downstairs lights and making his way upstairs to his bedroom, drowsiness finally catching up to him.

He brushes his teeth and washes his face and flops down onto his bed, stretching his body across the fresh cotton sheets.

David is right, there’s nothing better than falling into a proper bed after a long day.

He yawns and burrows into his comforter, snugging down into the bed as the day fades away from him. Sleep comes to him easier now, as does David’s face as he falls asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're close to the end now!!
> 
> Thank you again for the lovely comments! I love reading all of them, they really lift me up!

Christmas is right around the corner before Patrick realizes. Due to the high demand of shopping, David has had to make several vendor trips to restock their most popular items, forgoing rush delivery in favor of picking them up in person, leaving Patrick to tend to the store on his own for several hours. It’s both exhausting and exhilarating, but also incredibly frustrating to have David be away for so much of the day. He wants him here at the store with him all the time, trading secret glances from across the room, watching David make not so subtle faces whenever Roland comes in.

It's just nice to know that this is their space, something they share together, something that always bring them back to one another. 

As business partners. Just business partners. 

For now. 

He still doesn’t know how to ask David out, the fear of rejection cutting through his gut. Because David might have fallen in love with Patrick in that alternate life, but what’s the guarantee he’ll fall for him in this one?

It's a fear that's been bubbling up inside of him, really making a break for the surface as he tries to keep it down. How can he go on knowing what it's like to be loved by David Rose and to not have him here? Because loving David is easy but being loved by him is addictive and he's insatiable for it. 

Patrick makes a quick run to the café to pick up his lunch during a small break, David once again out on a vendor run.

“Hi Patrick!” Twyla says from the counter. “Your order will be out in just a second,” she says turning around to get it ready for him.

He drums his fingers on the countertop, looking back behind him to make sure no one is waiting outside of the store. He posted a sign up, but it’s too cold for anyone to wait around for him to come back and he doesn’t want to lose a potential sale.

“Oh, hello Peter,” A voice from beside him says. Patrick turns and meets the unwavering gaze of Moira Rose.

“Hi Mrs. Rose,” Patrick says smiling at her. “Here for some lunch?”

“Oh no, just popping in for a nice cup of tea. I will be joining the Jazzagals for an impromptu rehearsal later this afternoon and I need to prepare my vocal chords for the melodious exertion,” she says taking off her fur hat and fluffing her hair.

“Will you be joining them for a performance?” Patrick asks curiously.

“They will be joining me as it happens, for our annual Christmas party. I’m sure David has told you all about it, he made a verbal pledge to tell you,” she says.

“Uh, no, he hasn’t mentioned anything like that to me,” Patrick replies awkwardly.

“Well, a minor oversight on his behalf I’m sure. You know how David can be,” she says breezily. “It would be amiss not to have you there with us Paul. I hope you accept this most obliged invitation.”

“I’ll be there,” Patrick says with a smile and Mrs. Rose pats his arm.

“Very good. Oh, Twyla! A chamomile tea with honey please, my dear. These vocal chords need to be in tip top shape for our rehearsal,” she says as Twyla comes back with Patrick’s lunch.

“Coming right up, Mrs. Rose,” she says warmly and hands Patrick the bag. “And Patrick, here is your chicken club with pickles and mustard.”

“Thanks Twyla,” Patrick says taking the bag. “I’ll see you around, Mrs. Rose.”

“Goodbye, sweet Pat,” she says and Patrick grins at her.

Patrick jogs back to the store, waving at Bob across the street, quickly unlocking the door and rushing inside. He eats his lunch in the back, keeping an ear out for the bell above the door and replays his conversation with Mrs. Rose.

David never mentioned his parent’s throwing a party. Granted he’s been in and out of the store the last few weeks so maybe he’s just been too busy to bring it up? But they text every day and surely during their conversation last night about the offensiveness of carpeted bathrooms should have warranted an invite?

Patrick tries not to dwell on it for the next hour until David is supposed to be back, choosing to update the stores many spreadsheets, wipe down the counter and dust the shelves instead.

When David does finally arrive, he’s carrying a box rather awkwardly through the door, making small “ah” noises as he dramatically plops it onto the counter.

“Have you been working out because that looked effortless,” Patrick teases and David sniffs.

“It’s just an awkwardly shaped box and yes I have, thank you for noticing,” he says, whipping off his sunglasses and shrugging his coat off. “So, anything happen while I’ve been away?”

“Just the usual. Roland came back in to buy more foot cream,” Patrick says and delights in the way David looks disgusted. “Shannon also called while you were gone. She’s going to drop off another box of the toasted cinnamon candles tomorrow morning.”

“Oh thank God,” David sighs out. “That’s one last thing I have to worry about. But since Christmas is in 4 days, I think we have just enough of everything else to hold us over until the new year.”

“Speaking of Christmas,” Patrick says opening up the box on the counter. “I bumped into your mom at the café earlier and she mentioned something about a Christmas party?”

David visibly stiffens. “Oh,” David says clearing his throat. “Did she now?”

“Why didn’t you tell me I was invited to the party?” Patrick asks gently and David does his signature “shaking his hands while squeezing his eyes tightly, mouth pressed tightly together like he wants to say something untowardly” gesture. It's one of Patrick's favorites. 

“Trust me, I didn’t tell you because it’s what’s best for you. You don’t know my family like the rest of the town does and they’re…a lot,” David says wincing. “So this is my attempt in making sure you don’t severely regret going into business with me.”

“David, I will never regret going into business with you,” Patrick says sincerely and his heart lurches at the shy and unsure look that passes on David’s face. “And there’s no way I’m missing this party. Your mom mentioned a performance with the Jazzagals and it sounds like it’s going to be the event of the year.”

David groans and waves his hand. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

On the night of Christmas Eve, Patrick arrives at the temporary Rose residence a little later than planned because his grandmother kept him on the phone and his good manners prevented him from rushing her. With a bottle of wine and his nicest suit jacket, he fidgets nervously with his hair as Alexis opens the door.

“Oh yay, Patrick!” Alexis says excitedly, clapping her hands and pulling him in. “ _So_ happy you’re here! We’ve just been _dying_ to get to know David’s business partner more.”

“Mm, I’m sure David’s loves that,” Patrick replies with a grin and Alexis boops him on the nose.

The house is decorated accordingly, thick bundles of garland and lights placed artfully around the room, one of the menorahs from the store displayed proudly on the mantle of the fireplace. There are some decorations he recognizes from the store, recalling a rather humorous interaction David had with his dad the other day when he came in asking David to provide some ornaments for the party at the low, low cost of free. David was not amused and Patrick’s snickers did not help.

There’s a table with hor d’oeuvres and desserts on the far side of the room, people milling about with glasses of wine and plates of food in their hands. The atmosphere is lively and light and Patrick feels his chest swelling with warmth.

“Oh Patrick!” Mr. Rose says as they round the corner to the living room. “Glad you could join us tonight,” he says stepping towards them.

“Thank you for having me,” Patrick replies politely, shaking his hand. “I heard your Christmas parties were quite infamous.”

Mr. Rose chuckles, “We’ve been known to throw a few, although the last few years have been a more intimate affair.” Patrick scans the room and sees many of the townspeople he’s grown to know and care about scattered across the room.

Patrick smiles and offers him the wine. “I brought this from one of our vendors on a buying trip last week, it’s from their special stock.”

“I will take that,” Alexis says plucking it out of his hand. “And take it into the kitchen where all the other bottles are. Can I get you a glass?” Alexis asks him while batting her eyelashes and he smiles warmly at her.

“That would be great, thank you Alexis,” he says and Alexis bounces off, Mr. Rose chuckling after her fondly.

“I can’t tell you how wonderful it’s been to have the family back together,” Mr. Roses says. “It’s only been a couple of months since we’ve all parted ways, but after spending so much time on top of each other, you feel the distance more.”

Patrick nods. “I can understand that. This is the farthest I’ve ever been away from my parents since college.”

“And how are you enjoying Schitt’s Creek? Any doubts?” Mr. Rose asks and Patrick catches David from across the room talking to Stevie and Jocelyn, his chest warming up at the sight of him.

“None,” Patrick replies. “The best decision I ever made.” He stares at David for a beat longer before turning his attention back to Mr. Rose, a blush rising up his cheeks as he realizes he’s been caught staring at his son. He's looking at Patrick carefully, a hint of a smile on his lips. 

“You know, I was very surprised when David decided against moving back to New York with Alexis,” Mr. Rose says. “It seemed out of character for him because he’s been wanting to go back since the moment he stepped foot in Schitt’s Creek. But he assured us that he would be fine and that this is what he wanted. And when he told us about the store, well, perhaps it’s because I’m his father and I’ll always worry, but I was nervous. None of us were nearby to help him and the last time he tried opening the store, he, well-” Mr. Rose fumbles trying to find the words.

“I know,” Patrick says gently. “He told me what happened.”

Mr. Rose nods and clears his throat. “His mother and I, we thought we were just being supportive with his galleries. We just, we didn’t want him to fail,” he sighs out. “And what happened at the motel really shook things up for Stevie and I. But David came through, like he always does,” he says. “The best, our kids deserve the best and we thought the best was helping them be successful. Turns out they didn’t need our help after all.”

“You should be proud,” Patrick says nodding towards David. “He’s brilliant. The work he puts into the store, how much he cares,” Patrick says shaking his head. “I may be the numbers guy, but he’s the vision. The store wouldn’t exist without him.”

“He’s a Rose,” Johnny says with a smile. “And I am very proud of him. Both of my kids.”

“Here you go,” Alexis says bouncing back up to them, handing Patrick a glass of wine.

“Have you seen your mother, honey?” Mr. Rose asks and Alexis points across the room where it looks like Mrs. Rose and David are having a very heated discussion.

“Mom’s trying to get David to do ‘The Number,’” Alexis says and Patricks asks curiously, “What’s the ‘The Number’?”

“Oh my God, you’re going to love it,” Alexis says with a clumsy wink and Patrick watches Mrs. Rose drag a very reluctant David to the middle of the living room.

“Friends, dear friends,” Mrs. Rose says raising her wine glass. “It is most joyous to be gathered together again in our humble abode for these holiday festivities and I would be remiss not to indulge you with some light entertainment.”

“Oh my God,” David says running a hand over his face.

“Thank God, I didn’t think they were going to do this,” Stevie says coming up beside them.

“Do what?” Patrick asks and Stevie nods back at David. “You’ll see.”

“Maestro!” Mrs. Rose says gesturing to the piano and pianist that seemed to have magically appeared. “If you please!”

“Where did that piano come from?” Patrick whispers to Stevie and she shushes him as the opening notes of what is set to be the best 10 minutes of his life begins. Patrick watches with rapt attention as the love of his life sings the Christmas medley to end all Christmas medleys with his mother, feeling so in love and falling more so with every second that ticks by, Stevie barely suppressing her laughter from beside him.

 _I’m in love,_ Patrick thinks to himself as David dips his mother. _I’m so fucking in love._

When the performances ends, the room erupts with applause, Moira Rose basking in the praise.

“God, it gets better every time,” Stevie says as she wipes the tears out of her eyes.

“I didn’t peg you to get so emotional over some Christmas songs, Stevie,” Patrick teases and Stevie snorts at him.

“I’m not the idiot who can’t control his heart eyes,” Stevie replies with a smirk.

“Heart eyes?” Patrick asks confused and Stevie’s grin only deepens.

“You got it so bad and you don’t even know,” she says just as David approaches them.

“I need that,” he says taking Stevie’s wine glass out of her hand and taking a deep sip.

“Your lack of manners astounds me,” she says drily.

“I just publicly embarrassed myself in front of the whole town yet again, I need this more than you,” David says finishing off the glass.

Stevie rolls her eyes at him. “If that were the case, you should have a glass on wine in your hand all the time,” she says walking away to get herself a new glass.

“Bring the bottle please!” David calls out to her. Patrick stifles his laughter behind his hand and David narrows his eyes at him. “Enjoy that did you?”

“Well I feel like you’ve been holding out on me,” Patrick says crossing his arms. “Who knew you were such a great performer.”

“Well,” David says clearing his throat daintily. “I know you’re just fucking with me, but I did spend a summer at a Hal Prince bootcamp when I was 14 at the behest of my mother.”

“So if I wanted to revisit the conversation about hosting an open mic night-” Patrick says with a grin and David cuts him off immediately, “No.”

“Come on David, it’ll help with establishing a relationship with the community,” Patrick says and David shakes his head violently.

“I’ll get you to turn around sooner or later,” Patrick says and David smirks at him teasingly.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, his voice like chocolate and Patrick feels himself flushing hot.

The night continues like that, light flirting between them getting heavier as they consume more and more wine and some spiked hot chocolate.

“Ugh, normally I hate the powdered stuff, but having it with Bailey’s makes it somewhat bearable,” David says drinking his second cup.

At one point, Patrick finds himself pressed tightly into David’s side as he shows him pictures of his last trip to Japan on his phone.

“The cherry blossoms were in full bloom and it was _perfect_ ,” David sighs out sadly.

“There are no cherry blossoms around here?” Patrick asks and David scrunches up his nose.

“Technically there are. I was actually supposed to see them with Stevie a little while back but there was a messy miscommunication and involved a traveling motel reviewer, a sex date and lots of karaoke and polar bear shots.”

“You’re going to have to piece those words together for me,” Patrick says slowly, blinking at David.

“It was all Stevie’s fault,” David says waving his hand. “She abducted me for a sex date with the promise of walking through a botanical garden and when her deception was exposed, I went to the hotel lounge and sang lots of Mariah and drank lots of shots. Not a bad night to be completely honest. But don’t tell Stevie,” David adds hurriedly. “I’m still owed a favor because of that and I haven’t cashed it in yet.”

“Any ideas for what you’ll be using it for?” Patrick asks, sipping on his wine.

“Oh just a thing,” David says cryptically and before Patrick can push, they’re pulled in by Alexis to gather around the magical piano to sing carols, David’s long body warm against his side.

\\\\\

After using the last hour of the party to sober up, Patrick makes his way to his car, David walking along side him in the cold.

“Thank you for coming,” David says softly.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Patrick says teasingly and David rolls his eyes playfully.

“Forgive me for wanting to shield you from the wrath of my family,” David replies. “They have a history of chasing people away.”

“It’s going to take a lot more than that to get rid of me, David,” Patrick says fondly. _Actually, there’s nothing that’ll get me to leave you,_ he thinks to himself.

David hums and pulls his coat tighter around himself. “So, any plans for tomorrow?”

“Not really, thought I’d use the day to relax, maybe use that crockpot you got me,” Patrick says shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Well, after breakfast with my family, I’ll be relatively free. Maybe Stevie and I can come over and we can hang out?” David asks and Patrick feels his belly erupting with butterflies.“Y-yeah,” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I’d like that. Come by whenever.”

“Okay, I’ll text you when I’m on my way,” David says and looks at him for a moment, his smile smooshed into one cheek, his eyes twinkling and beautiful. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Patrick.”

Patrick nods, his head in a bit of a daze. “Goodnight David.”

“Goodnight,” he says softly before turning on his foot and walking back inside. 

\\\\\

Patrick doesn’t get much sleep that night. He’s too wired up at the idea of having David over his house for Christmas. It just seems so perfectly romantic. Of course, Stevie will be there, but he doesn’t stop the anticipation from building up inside of him. He doesn’t have many decorations up around the house, still too busy with tidying up and moving furniture, so he makes sure to stop by the shop early in the morning to grab some of their leftover string lights on the way to his hike.

It’s a frigid morning, but that’s good because it distracts him from the thumping in his chest. Last night was fun. It was light and festive and it was spent by David’s side, the long length of his body pressed closely to his.

He reaches the lookout and settles down on his rock, taking in deep breaths to calm his heart down.

They were definitely flirting last night. Like a lot. And that was something right? Now it was just a matter of making a move.

But how to do it?

It was during moments like this when he wished he knew what his alternate self did to win David Rose. How did he ask David out? What was their first date like? Did they kiss at the end of it?

And maybe it should bring comfort knowing that in some other world Patrick Brewer and David Rose end up together, but if anything it just feels like a lot of pressure. What if he can’t win David’s heart here? What if this Patrick isn’t good enough?

Patrick buries his head in his hands and takes a shuddering breath.

It was one thing to chase after David at the beginning of this because he got a taste of what he could have if he wanted it. But it’s different now. Because Patrick loves David and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that in any realm, universe and world, he will always fall in love with David.

He thinks David likes him back, recalling moments from last night in his head, moments like when David threw his head back with laughter at something Patrick had said, or when he leaned into his side the whisper in his ear about something Roland had just done or when his fingers kept dancing across Patrick’s shoulders every chance he could, leaving a trail of fire along his skin.

Patrick has never been one to back down from a challenge, always being a take-charge kind of guy. But with so much at stake, he still doesn’t know where to begin.

He sits on his rock for thirty more minutes before making his way back down the mountain, David heavy on his mind.

“Get through Christmas,” he murmurs to himself. “Get through today and figure out the rest later.”

\\\\\

Patrick tidies up the house, cues up a couple of Christmas classics on the tv and makes enough hot chocolate for the three of them when his doorbell rings.

He’s just about done hanging up the string lights on his little Christmas tree, rubbing his clammy hands on his jeans and goes to open the door.

“Merry Christmas,” Stevie says rushing past him. “I need to pee!”

“Merry Christmas to you too!” Patrick calls out to her, David shaking his head distastefully after her.

“I told her not to have so many mimosas at breakfast,” David says shrugging off his coat. “It was like she and my mom were in competition to see how many they could drink within fifteen minutes.”

“Who won?” Patrick asks, taking David’s coat and hanging up in the coat closet.

“My mother of course,” he says settling down onto the couch. “Stevie tries, but she will never be able to out drink my mom.”

“Well, I hope your bladder is relatively empty because I have hot chocolate in the crockpot,” Patrick says walking to the kitchen, knowing David won’t be far behind.

“In the crockpot?” David asks.

“Yeah, I found a recipe online, none of the powdered stuff here,” Patrick says opening the lid, the rich smell of chocolate filling the room.

David closes his eyes in ecstasy and Patrick feels himself getting hot under the collar, his body responding quickly to the orgasmic look on David’s face.

“God that smells good, how much did you make?” David asks as Patrick ladles him some.

“Enough to keep you satisfied,” Patrick says handing him the mug.

“Mm,” David says taking a deep breath. “But what about everyone else?”

“It’s just you, me and Stevie, how much hot chocolate do we need?” Patrick asks and just then the doorbell rings. “Huh, that’s weird. Who could it be?”

“Only one way to find out,” David says behind his cup, hiding his grin.

“David,” Patrick says warningly and David blinks at him innocently.

“Go open the door, Patrick,” David says and Patrick makes his way there, his eyebrows furrowed together tightly.

“I don’t have enough wine here if it’s your family, David,” he calls out behind him and opens his front door to reveal his parents.

“Surprise,” his mom says pulling him in for a hug, Patrick blinking over her shoulder at his father in confusion.

“What, what are you doing here?” Patrick asks, his dad clapping him on the shoulder as his mother’s grip on him tightens.

“We couldn’t let you spend Christmas by yourself,” his mom says, pulling away but keeping her hands on his arms. “So we drove down to be with you.”

“But how?” Patrick asks, his eyes darting back and forth between them.

“Well it took some sneaking around, but David was here to lend a helping hand,” his dad says gesturing behind him.

“David?” Patrick asks and David shrugs his shoulders bashfully.

“Your mom called a couple of weeks ago while you were at the bank and we just started talking,” he says, looking at his mom shyly. “Since you gave up so much for the store, I figured this was the least I could do for you.”

“David,” his mom says finally letting him go to step into the house towards David. “Thank you for everything, we couldn’t have done this without you,” she says pulling him in for a signature Marcy Brewer hug.

“Oh,” David says surprised, tensing up before wrapping his arms around her and patting her back. “Of course Mrs. Brewer.”

“Call me Marcy dear,” she says pulling back. “We have stuff in the car so why don’t we bring that in and we can settle down for some treats.”

David’s eyes light up at the mention of treats. “Did you bring the carrot cake?”

“I brought two!” She exclaims. She turns back towards Patrick and cups his cheek. “We just missed you so much, my sweet boy.”

“I missed you too,” Patrick says, his voice thick with emotion.

“There’s a lot in the car so why don’t you buys put on your coats and help us,” his dad says walking back out. “Your mom brought enough to feed an army!”

David moves to grab his coat, but Patrick stops him by grabbing his arm.

“David, what did you do?” Patrick asks, his eyes wide.

David bites his bottom lip and looks sheepish. “Your mom just sounded so lovely on the phone and she mentioned that this would be the first Christmas without you so I may have suggested that they drive down here? And now I’m thinking I may have been presumptuous,” he says awkwardly and Patrick shakes his head.

“No, no, not at all. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” Patrick says swallowing hard. “I just wish my guest bedroom furniture came in earlier.”

“Oh you don’t have to worry about that,” David says waving his hand. “I got Stevie to give your parents a free room.”

“You what?” Patrick asks shocked.

“Yeah, I mean, she owed me a favor so,” David says casually and Patrick’s chest swells.

“David, did you use your cherry blossom sex date favor for me?” Patrick asks and David rolls his eyes at him.

“Those are a combination of words I never want to hear again,” he says but grins at Patrick anyway. “Like I said, this was the least I could do.”

“Thank you David,” Patrick breathes out. “This, this means a lot to me.”

David smiles at him before looking away quickly. “And I should mention your mom also promised to bring me a lot of food, like the carrot cake, so there was a lot of incentive for me to also have them come down,” David says walking past him, but Patrick can still see that grin on his face, even as he tries to hide it.

They throw on their coats and help his parents take out the seemingly endless bounty in his their sedan, Stevie watching from the couch with a glass of wine in her hand.

“Thank you so much for your contribution,” David snarks at her on his way to the kitchen, his arms full of tupperware.

“Glad I could be of assistance,” she replies back with a smirk.

Once everything is unloaded and Patrick’s fridge is stuffed full of his mom’s cooking, they all gather in the kitchen, drinking wine and eating cake, David devouring his second slice in mere minutes.

“Mrs. Brewer, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” David says around a forkful of cake.

His mom chuckles fondly at him. “That second cake is for you to take home. And some of the butter tarts.”

David closes his eyes in ecstasy and everyone around him laughs.

“How did Nana react when you told her you weren’t going to be home for Christmas?” Patrick asks, leaning against his kitchen counter, sipping on a cold bottle of beer.

“Better than Uncle Gary,” his dad replies. “Absolutely gutted that we wouldn’t be there to sing ‘Driving Home for Christmas’.”

“We may need to call in later and sing one carol together,” his mom says and Patrick’s eyes brighten up.

“You know, David here _loves_ Christmas carols-”

“Okay,” David says cutting him off quickly. “That is my cue to leave. I should get back to my family before they send out a search party.”

“Oh, let me pack up all of your goodies,” his mom says standing up from the kitchen table. “Stevie, I made sure to make some extra for you too, dear.”

“Oh, that’s um, nice,” Stevie says awkwardly. “Thank you Mrs. Brewer.”

“I also made a lasagna that’s in the freezer so make sure Patrick shares that with you. It’s a family recipe.”

“I don’t know how I can go back to eating at the café,” David sighs out.

“Don’t worry David, mom made enough food to last me through the winter,” Patrick teases.

“For David that’s the equivalence of a week,” Stevie says and David pulls her hair. “Ow!”

“Don’t be mean,” David says and Stevie sticks her tongue out at him. “Come on, we should drop the food off at my apartment first before we head back to my parents.”

“You’re not going to share are you?” Patrick asks fondly.

“Absolutely not,” David replies. “My family are vultures.”

\\\\\

His mom and dad go out to the car to grab the extra food, Stevie going to the bathroom before driving back into town. Patrick tries to ignore the clumsy wink she throws over David’s shoulder when he’s turned around.

“Thank you again for coming and for arranging everything with my parents,” Patrick says walking David out.

“I told you, it was nothing,” he says shrugging his shoulders. “I have been awarded quite handsomely,” he says gesturing to his parents who are moving seemingly endless bags of food into David’s car.

Patrick chuckles and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Should I expect to see you at the store tomorrow or will you need a few more days to wake up from your food coma?”

“Mm, well I am leaving to voluntarily spend time with my family so it might be more of a hangover than a food coma,” David replies.

“So I’ll see you at 10?”

“Yes,” David says with a smile and Patrick shakes his head. He looks up at David who is smiling oh so softly at him and blurts out, “Come have dinner tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” David breathes out with surprise. “Um, your parents?”

“They’ll only be here until tomorrow afternoon before driving back up, gone by dinner time.”

“Okay, yeah dinner sounds good,” David says nodding. “Um, I’ll tell Stevie-”

“Don’t,” Patrick blurts out and David raises an eyebrow at him. “I mean, um, as much as I like Stevie, I was thinking just the two of us?” Patrick says nervously and David raises his both eyebrows at him. “Or we can invite Stevie, it’s no big deal,” he hastily adds, hating every second of this-

“No, no,” David says shaking his head. “Um, no that’s okay, I mean, yes, dinner for the two of us, here, at your house, the two of us,” David says clearing his throat and looking away.

“Yeah I mean I don’t know if you heard, but my mom makes a mean lasagna and she just so happened to leave one here, so,” Patrick stumbles through, feeling his cheeks heating up against the cold air.

“Mhm, mhm, mhm,” David says nodding his head quickly. “I do like lasagna,” he says and he pushes his smile to the side, his cheeks stained red and his eyes bright.

 _But do you like me,_ Patrick wants to ask.

“Okay, the tank has been emptied, ready to go?” Stevie asks walking out of the front door.

“Yes, my mother has requested we bring another bottle of wine and we shouldn’t keep her waiting. Don’t want a repeat of last time,” David says with a grimace and Patrick laughs.

“Just in time, we’ve loaded up your car with treats, make sure you share,” his mom says walking up towards them, a pointed look towards David.

“But they never share with me,” David whines his mom pats his cheek.

“You’re a good person, David Rose,” she says warmly and David blushes beautifully.

“We can’t wait to see the store tomorrow,” his dad says wrapping an arm around his mom’s shoulder. “We’re excited to see what you boys have built.”

David’s eyes light up. “Oh, I have to make you a basket to take home with you! I can walk you through the store and you can pick out whatever you’d like to take.”

“Within reason,” Patrick adds in but David waves his hand. “Sure, sure."

“Come on, your mom texted me while I was in the bathroom,” Stevie says from beside him. “It was nice meeting you Mr. and Mrs. Brewer. I’ll see you back at the motel later.”

“Thank you again for the room Stevie,” his dad says shaking her hand. “We really appreciate it.”

Stevie and David pile into the car, waving their hands out through the windows as they drive off, Patrick and his parents waving after them.

“What lovely friends you’ve made here, sweetheart,” his mom says walking back into the house.

“Yeah, I got lucky,” Patrick says. “They helped me with the house, I owe them a lot.”

“Hopefully the three pies your mother packed into David’s car will be enough as payment,” his dad jokes and Patrick chuckles with him.

“I might just get away with it,” Patrick says with a fond smile.

“Come on,” his mom says hooking her arm with his. “Give us the grand tour.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Angst Warning*
> 
> I know some people are super sensitive to it so I thought I'd include a warning

Patrick takes his parents through the house, showing off all the renovations he did himself, them praising him along the way.

“The house is beautiful, Patrick,” his mom says admiring his bed. “This must have cost you quite a bit of money.”

“Oh it did,” Patrick says with a wince. “Definitely a bit of an investment. But David has expensive taste.”

“David?” His mom asks with curiosity. “David helped pick out this bed?”

“Oh,” Patrick says, feelings his cheeks heating up. “Um, yeah, actually he helped pick out a lot of the furniture actually and the finishings.” His mom raises her eyebrows at him and Patrick goes on saying, “I needed help and he offered. As um, as a friend.”

His parents share a look between them, the kind of telepathic communication that only comes with decades of trust and marriage. Patrick feels himself tensing up as he watches them, wondering what it is they’re trying to say to each other.

“Well, that explains a lot,” his mom says.

“I wouldn’t have believed it if you did this all by yourself,” his dad teases and Patrick rolls his eyes at him, feeling himself loosening back up. “Okay, I’m not that useless when it comes to home decor.”

“Of course not sweetheart,” his mom says patting his cheek. “But there’s no shame in accepting help from friends, especially ones who have great taste like David.”

“I liked his sweater,” his dad tacks on, nodding his head. “Looked very expensive.”

Patrick eyes his parents warily, but doesn't push it, not wanting to unpack the weird energy that's been surrounding his parents since their arrival. 

“I think it’s time to call the rest of the family, is your throat warmed up for some warbling with uncle Gary?” his mom asks, leading him back down to the living room. “He mentioned wanting to try out new harmonies with you.”

“Lets hope he doesn’t try to out tenor you again this year,” his dad quips from behind and Patrick groans. “We can pretend to lose connection if he does, I promise.”

\\\\\

After a very, very, very long video call to the family back at home, the three Brewers settle around Patrick’s new dining room table for a delicious Christmas dinner prepared by his mother before he sends them off to the motel to sleep with promises to meet back at the house tomorrow morning for breakfast.

After tidying up around the house, Patrick makes his way upstairs, getting ready for bed as he always does, but with a nervous buzz of energy humming through his body.

He asked David out right? He asked David Rose out and he said yes, right? David agreed to having dinner at his house, just the two of them, right?

The invitation came out of nowhere, just burst out of him before he could reel it back in. But he doesn’t think anything could have stopped it even if he tried. He just, he was feeling so many things for David today and he doesn’t think he can wait anymore.

Before Patrick settles into bed, he goes back downstairs to his office, pulling open the drawer of his desk for David’s present, running a finger down the side of the black frame.

He’ll give him his gift when he comes over for dinner. When it’s just the two of them. On their date.

\\\\\

“One of our vendors, Samantha, makes this body milk,” David says handing Patrick’s mom a bottle. It’s the next day and as promised Patrick’s parents have stopped by, gushing over the store as David shows them all the products they carry.

“Body milk?” His dad asks curiously. “Can you drink this?”

David turns to Patrick and gives him a blank look. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

His mom smacks his dad’s arm playfully and looks over the bottle appraisingly. “Your aunt Millie will love this. She’s always complaining about her dry skin during the winter.”

“Then you should also bring her some of our olive oil hand cream,” David says plucking a small tube from the center table. “This stuff is like magic.”

“Oh David, we’ve already taken too much,” his mom says, gesturing towards two baskets that are sitting atop the counter, filled to the brim and overflowing with products.

“I insist,” David says pushing the hand cream towards her. “Unlike my family, you’ve actually tried to pay for all of this,” he says, shooting Patrick a smirk over his shoulder.

Patrick smiles from the counter, shaking his head. He and David have been giving each other looks since the beginning of the day, shy glances, hopeful smiles, all full of anticipation and excitement for tonight. He was at the store first, arriving early because he couldn’t seem to sit still at home, his parents watching him with amusement as he rushed through breakfast. And when David walked in, they just smiled at each other, soft and sure and Patrick welcomed the butterflies in his tummy.

“I wish we could stay longer,” his mom says walking up to the counter towards Patrick. “The next trip down we’ll make sure to stay a couple of days.”

“And by then the guest bedroom will be ready,” Patrick replies. “David is going to help me assemble the bed,” he says with a smirk.

“I promised no such thing,” David says with a sniff. “Your son can make spreadsheets but he can’t pick out furniture.”

Patrick chuckles and walks around the counter. “Speaking of furniture, I have a delivery that’s coming later today. You can take a look at it and give it your seal of approval.”

“If it matches the bed you can just throw it out now,” David snarks back and Patrick only smiles wider. He turns to look at his parents and notices curious smiles on their face having just watched their interaction.

“I, uh, I think we should load all this stuff into the car now,” Patrick says hastily.

“Yes, we should get going soon, but we were hoping for one more meal with you before we leave?” His mom asks hopefully.

“Well, I have to be here-” Patrick starts to say but is swiftly cut off by David.

“Go,” David says. “Go eat with your parents. I can handle everything here and lock up.”

“Are you sure?” Patrick asks. “I don’t mind coming back-”

“No need,” David says shaking his head. “Spend the rest of the day with them,” he says and gives Patrick a soft and reassuring smile.

“Okay,” Patrick breathes out. “Thank you.”

“David, thank you for everything,” his mom says walking up to David and pulling him in for a hug. David, still not used to the warm embrace of Marcy Brewer, tenses up before melting into it, wrapping his arms around her too. “Of course, Mrs. Brewer.”

“Marcy,” she says pulling away and giving David a pointed look.

“Marcy,” David repeats back with a shy smile.

“We’ll be back down to visit you boys again,” his dad says shaking David’s hand and patting his shoulder. “We’re just so proud.”

“Very proud,” his mom agrees. “And don’t hesitate to ask for treats. I can send them down to you, no trouble.”

“That’s great because I got through most of the butter tarts last night,” David admits and his mom kisses his cheek fondly.

“Let’s go to the café,” Patrick says gesturing across the street. “Can’t miss eating at the café if you want a true Schitt’s Creek experience.”

“Is this the same café that packs soup into plastic bags?” His mom asks walking towards the door, arms full with the gift basket stuffed to the brim.

“The one and only. Let me grab my coat in the back and I’ll meet you outside,” Patrick says and his parents nod their heads, giving David one last goodbye before walking out, the bell ringing behind them.

It’s just them in the store again and that same fluttery anticipation swirls around them. They look at each other, small smiles on their faces before they both look away, Patrick feeling his cheeks heat up.

“Um, is there anything you want me to get you?” Patrick asks.

“No, no,” David says shaking his head. “I can ask Stevie to pick something up for me.”

“Okay,” Patrick says nodding his head. “So, I’ll, um, see you tonight?”

“Mhm, mhm,” David says nodding his head quickly, biting his lip. “Is seven okay?”

“Seven works for me, yeah,” Patrick says, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking up at David shyly.

“Do you need me to bring anything?” David asks.

“Just yourself,” Patrick breathes out smiling at him and David smiles at him back and _God._

“Okay,” David says softly. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Yes, yup, tonight,” Patrick says walking backwards towards the door, smiling back at David. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Um, aren’t you forgetting something?” David asks with a smirk and Patrick furrows his eyebrows at him.

“I don’t think so?” Patrick says confused and David laughs and goes into the back room and comes back out with Patrick’s coat.

“Can’t have you getting sick on me,” David says passing him the coat. “You may be good at taking care of people when they’re ill, but I can’t be trusted to nurse anyone back to life.”

Patrick takes his coat, his eyes trained on David and thinks back to that first moment when he woke up in David Rose’s bed, how he began to fall in love with David because he took care of him so well.

Patrick shrugs his coat on and smiles gently at David. “For some reason, I don't buy that,” he says with one more look before walking out of the store to meet his parents across the street.

\\\\\

“So this is the café,” his dad says looking around from the booth where they’re seated at. “You were right about the murals,” he says. “Very green.”

“And the menus,” his mom says struggling to open one up. “Have they always been this big?”

“Yes,” Patrick says with a laugh. “Although since Twyla bought the café, I’ve heard rumors that she’s thinking of expanding the menu even more.”

“My goodness,” his mom murmurs to herself. “They have quite the variety here.”

“What’s in the mystery meatloaf?” His dad asks just as Twyla happens to walk up to the table with her notepad.

“Oh, it depends on what’s leftover in the walk-in the day before. Could be beef, could be chicken, could be something else! You never know and that’s what makes it fun!” She says sunnily, smiling widely at his dad as he looks back at her warily.

“Can I get the chicken club, please Twyla?” Patrick asks.

“I’ll have the same please,” his mom says and his dad also agrees.

“Three chicken clubs, coming right up! Would you also like mustard and pickles on them too?” Twyla asks his parents and they nod their heads politely at her. “Great! It’ll be out shortly.”

“Thanks Twy,” Patrick says and she gives him a wink before leaving to tend to another table.

“It seems like you’ve really set some roots down, sweetheart,” his mom says reaching across the table to pat his hand. “We’re so happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Patrick says. “I’m really glad you both came down here.”

“I know we caught you off guard, but we just couldn’t stand the thought of you spending the holidays by yourself,” his mom says. “Although, I don’t think that would have been the case. You’ve found such wonderful friends here.”

“Yeah, I’ve been lucky,” Patrick says running a hand through his hair. “The community here has been very welcoming of me.”

“And the store, you and David did a great job with the store,” his dad pipes in. “Everyone back home is going to have a field day when we show them everything we’ve brought back.”

“Nana is especially going to love shawl you picked out for her,” his mom coos.

“Oh, thank David for that, he chose it. Everything in the store really. He sourced everything around the county,” Patrick says proudly.

His parents share another look between, similar to the one as yesterday back at the house and he eyes them suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” his mom says quickly, trying to look innocent, his dad looking away and up at the mural next to him.

Patrick narrows his eyes at them. “It doesn’t seem like nothing.”

His parents look at each other before looking at him with concern. “We just, we hope you know that you can come and talk to us, about anything. Anything at all,” she says reaching out to squeeze Patrick’s hand.

Patrick tenses up in his seat, his eyes darting between them. They’re looking at him like they always have, with warmth and love. But he notices for the first time there’s something else there. Something he didn’t see before. Maybe something he didn’t realize he needed to see.

There are a lot of things that are different about this world than the other one he spent those two weeks in, but there are many similarities too. And maybe, just maybe, this will be one of those things.

That maybe his parents will love him, their gay son.

“There is something I need to tell you,” Patrick says, his voice trembling slightly.

“You can tell us anything,” she says quickly and his dad softly adds, “Honey, let’s just let him talk.”

“Uh yeah,” Patrick says clearing his throat. “I guess this doesn’t come naturally,” he says, pulling at his fingers. Patrick doesn’t know how to say it, he doesn’t know how to tell them. He feels alone and scared and closes his eyes tightly before opening them up again. But instead of his parents, he sees David sitting across from him. David, his husband, smiling at him with that crooked grin and making him feel brave. Proof that someone loves him, will love him because he wants it.

“I’m gay,” he says quietly. “I’m um, I’m gay,” he says a little louder, a little bit more brave. “And I’ve never been happier with myself and I just, I hope you can accept that,” he finishes unsurely.

His mom sighs out and takes both of his hands in hers. “You are the only thing in the world that matters to us,” she says fiercely and Patrick feels a sob climbing in the back of his throat. “And if you’re happy then that’s all we care about.”

Patrick swallows thickly and looks at his dad. “Dad?”

“You’re our son, Patrick. We love you no matter what and this doesn’t change a thing. Although, your mother and I did notice something was different after you moved away,” he says and Patrick looks at them confused.

“Different how?” Patrick asks.

“You sounded happier,” his dad says. “You sounded like you couldn’t wait to start living.”

“We thought something had changed,” his mom says. “Turns out you were just finally ready to be yourself.”

Patrick shakes his head and wills himself not to cry. “I’m so relieved.”

“I’m sorry if you felt like you couldn’t come and talk to us sweetheart,” his mom says softly. “We never want to make you feel that way again.”

“It wasn’t you,” Patrick says. “I needed to figure things out for myself first.”

“Well, it seems like you did just that,” she says. “We’re so happy for you, my sweet boy.”

“Thank you,” Patrick says softly. They smile at him and he feels himself easing back down.

His parents love him, their gay son.

“And now that the cat’s out of the bag, tell us how you really feel about David,” his mom says and Patrick rears back in shock. “Mom!”

“Oh, no need to pretend,” she says waving a hand at him. “You two are obviously smitten with each other.”

“Dad?” Patrick says looking to his dad helplessly. But he just shrugs his shoulders at him. “I couldn’t stop her even if I tried.”

Patrick groans and cradles his head in his hands. “I can’t believe you have me all figured out.”

“I’m your mother. And there wasn’t much to figure out,” she says with a snort. “Why do you think I made all those pies? Had to do something to get on his good side.”

“What?” Patrick asks surprised. “How long have you known?”

“When was it honey?” His mom asks turning towards his dad. “Was it after the phone call when he told us about how David spent an entire afternoon reorganizing the bath salts by grain size?”

“No I think it was when he told us about how David chased away a raccoon with one of the toilet plungers,” he says scratching his chin.

“You can’t be serious,” Patrick says faintly. “You both knew all this time?”

“We didn’t know exactly, but like I said you sounded happier. And talking about David was when you sounded the happiest,” his dad says.

“Oh my God,” Patrick groans out.

“And he’s so handsome!” His mom gushes. “Really Patrick, such a good looking man.”

“Hey I’m right here,” his dad jokes and she kisses his cheek. “But no one holds a candle to you Clint Brewer.”

“I’m relieved and disturbed,” Patrick sighs out. “I can’t believe I was that obvious,” he grumbles out.

“Blatant,” his mom corrects. “I would say it was blatant,” and his dad nods his head in agreement from beside her as Patrick lets his head thunk onto the table.

\\\\\

They eat their chicken club sandwiches, talking and laughing together, Patrick feeling lighter and brighter now that his parents know him, know everything about him and he knows they love him just the same.

“I’m just going to pop into the restroom and then we can head out,” his mom says, sliding out of the booth, leaving just him and his dad.

“So, what now Patrick?” His dad asks.

“I thought I’d head back to the motel with you, squeeze in the time we have left before you drive back home,” Patrick replies and his dad shakes his head.

“No,” he says with a chuckle. “I mean for you, what’s next for you?”

“Oh,” Patrick says taken aback. “Well, keep working on the store, establish ourselves more firmly in the community. I’ve been trying to convince David into having some events at the store after closing.”

“Like those open mic nights you hosted in high school?” he asks and Patrick nods his head.

“Exactly that. It’ll be good for us to really ingratiate ourselves into the town. Help us grow the business further down the line.”

His dad looks at him proudly and shakes his head. “I’m so happy for you son. You sound so much more confident in yourself, so much more sure about what you want.”

“Thanks dad,” Patrick says gently.

“Back when you were up living near us, I was worried you were going to be one of those guys that got burned out before you had the chance to really start living. Stuck at some job you didn’t like out of obligation. But look at you now, a business owner, something you’ve always wanted to be. And I noticed you don’t seem to be counting as much,” he says and Patrick looks at him with shock. “What?”

“The counting. Remember I told you that trick when you were in high school? Count to ten if you feel anxious or stressed, helps you ground yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Patrick says remembering. “I forgot it was you who told me. I’ve been doing it for so long I didn’t even realize.”

“And now it seems like you rarely need to,” his dad says and Patrick realizes his dad is right. He can’t remember the last time he had to count in his head about something.

“Huh,” Patrick murmurs to himself. “Do you still do it?”

“No,” his dad says shaking his head. “I haven’t had to do it for years now.”

“When did you stop?” Patrick asks curiously and his dad gives him a knowing smile. “When I met your mom.”

Patrick smiles and laughs, his dad joining in.

“What’s so funny?” his mom asks as she makes her way back to the table.

“Nothing,” his dad says, taking her hand in his and winking at Patrick over her shoulder. “Nothing at all.”

\\\\\

They go back to the motel, his parents packing up their belongings, loading up the car and dropping Patrick off at his house.

His mom pulls him in for a tight hug, Patrick wrapping his arms around her small frame. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” she says pulling away and cupping his cheek. “My sweet boy. We’re so proud.”

“Make sure to come back soon to visit us,” his dad says pulling him in for his own hug.

“I will, I was thinking of visiting you both in the spring,” Patrick says. “The store should be stable enough for me to leave for a little bit.”

“Mm, and maybe you can bring David with you?” His mom asks hopefully and Patrick looks away bashfully.

“Maybe,” Patrick says rubbing the back of his neck. “Depends on…things.”

His mom hums and pats his cheek. “Feed him my lasagna. That should do the trick.”

“Honestly that actually might work,” he says with a chuckle. “Call me when you get home.”

“We will,” his mom says and pulls him in for one more hug. “We love you.”

“I love you too,” he says softly.

His parents pile back into the car and drive off, Patrick watching them until they’re no longer in his sight.

It’s five o’clock and there’s a lot for him to do before David comes over for the night. Patrick gets to tidying up around the house, getting some logs of wood ready in the fireplace for some post-dinner ambiance.

He puts the lasagna in the over as per his mother’s instructions and goes upstairs to shower and change.

He doesn’t have many clothing options, but given the weight of the evening, he still has a difficult time choosing what to wear. The four blue shirts he has may look similar to some, but he wants to choose the correct shade of blue. The kind of blue David likes. Does David like blue? He likes black, maybe he should wear black.

He hears the ding of his oven and chooses to wear his favorite light blue button down, hand reaching for his suit jacket before stopping himself. He’s at his house, not some jacket-required restaurant.

He takes the lasagna out of the oven and sets it on the counter to cool, pulling ingredients for a side salad out of the fridge. Just as he’s done tossing the salad, he hears his doorbell ring and nearly drops the bowl on the floor. He takes several deep breaths before walking out of the kitchen and to his front door, rubbing his clammy hands on his thighs.

He takes one more deep breath before opening the door with a smile, expecting to see David. But instead he’s faced with a man he’s never seen before carrying what looks to be his new coffee table.

“Hi, delivery for,” the man says looking down at a piece of paper that’s sandwiched between his hand and the table. “Patrick?”

“Yeah that’s me,” Patrick says blinking at him with surprise before stepping aside. “Sorry, I completely forgot you were coming to drop off my order tonight.”

“No it’s cool, I would have come by earlier, but I got caught up with some stuff,” he says walking through the door. He sets the coffee table down and pulls back up to his normal height and smiles down at Patrick. “I’m Jake.”

“Patrick,” he says, extending his hand for Jake to shake. He takes his hand into his grip, warm and firm and smiles more brightly at Patrick, which should do something for him because Jake is very much attractive. All rugged muscle beneath the light winter jacket he’s wearing with stubble running from his jaw down to his neck.

But right now he needs Jake to leave so that he can finish getting ready for David.

“Well, thank you for the coffee table,” Patrick says politely, taking his hand back. “It looks great.”

“Yeah, I have to say this is one of my best pieces,” Jake says tapping lightly on the wood. “You have great taste.”

“Thank you,” Patrick says with a blush. “So I really appreciate you bringing this over.”

“No problem,” Jakes says looking around the living room. “You have a really nice place.”

“Thanks, just recently finish renovating it,” Patrick says politely.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around town before,” Jake says stepping closer to Patrick.

“Well I moved down here recently, just a couple of months ago,” Patrick replies, his eyes going back between the door and Jake.

“I see. Well, if you ever need someone to show you around,” Jake says, placing a hand on his arm. “I can do that for you.”

“Uh, yah,” Patrick says, his brain short-circuiting, unable to form words when he hears a soft, “Oh,” from behind him.

He spins around quickly and sees David by the open front door, watching Patrick and Jake warily. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

Before Patrick can say anything, Jake steps away from him and towards David.

“David,” he says warmly, bending down and kissing David on the mouth.

Patrick freezes up from his spot, his eyes widening as he watches David’s eyes also grow bigger.

_What the fuck?_

Patrick feels the jealousy bubbling up in his gut, tries to push it down, but it’s unstoppable now as it rises up, itching from beneath his skin.

“What are you doing here?” Jake asks David, clearly oblivious to the tension that has now risen in the room.

“Well, I uh, I’m here to see my um, well,” David says, stumbling through his words. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

“Just dropping off a coffee table for Patrick here. We just got to talking, I might be showing him around town,” Jake says breezily and David’s eyes snap to Patrick’s. A thousand emotions run along David’s face before landing on nonchalance.

“Oh, I see,” David says flatly and Patrick sees the walls building back up from behind David’s eyes.

_No, wait-_

“Well, I have to head back home, I have some people coming over tonight. You both are more than welcome to join,” Jake says with a wink and makes his way out, leaving just David, Patrick and the winter chill coming in through the front door. 

They’re both quiet, unsure of what it is that just happened, unsure of what to even say.

“So,” David finally says, his voice soft. “You’ve met Jake.”

“It seems I have,” Patrick murmurs back, raking a hand through his short hair.

“Well,” David says clearing his throat. “If you um, if you want to _expand_ this gathering, you can just let me know now-”

“No,” Patrick says quickly cutting him off. “No, that’s not what this, that’s not what I want,” he says with frustration. “He really was just dropping off my coffee table.”

David squeezes his eyes tightly and nods his head quickly. “Mhm, it’s just, what I’m saying is that it’s fine if you do.”

“It’s fine if I do,” Patrick repeats weakly. “Are you saying that’s something you’re interested in?”

David’s eyes snap open and he looks at Patrick with a jolt. “No, not that’s not-”

“Because it looked like you were well acquainted with him,” Patrick says and regrets it immediately when he sees the look on David’s face as his words pierce through the air. But he still can’t stop himself and continues on. “If you’re interested in going over to Jake’s party, be my guest.”

David looks at him for a moment, a look of defeat flashing through his eyes before the walls are back up to hide everything he’s feeling. “Actually, I think I’ll just go home.”

David doesn’t look at him as he walks out, closing the front door softly behind him. Patrick doesn’t know how long he stands there, looking at the door before the tears start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been dreading posting this chapter because of everyone's comments of wanting a kiss soon, I had to throw a wrench in. The first draft of this had none and it just didn't feel right with me. 
> 
> If you've read my previous work, then you know I can't not include some angst in my stories. We're one chapter away so I hope you won't be mad at me 😭 
> 
> (I promise, as much as there is always angst, there's also always a happy ending ❤️)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to be honest, I really put off on editing this chapter because I found it hard to say goodbye to it. 
> 
> I have thought about this fic every day for 11 months. This has been the hardest year of my life, starting pre-Covid and so much of my heartache is engrained in this fic. 
> 
> And I realized when I was in the middle of edits a few weeks ago that I wrote this fic in response to how the show helped me through this difficult year. I'm sure I'm not alone in saying that the show is one of the most important things in my life. It is my comfort, it is my home, and it has shown me what you can have when you let yourself want something, when you let yourself deserve happiness. 
> 
> I guess I subconsciously let myself grasp onto that as I wrote this because I needed to remind myself of that. 
> 
> So here is the final chapter of this. It's been strange to grapple with the sadness of letting go and the excitement to move on. 
> 
> Oh, and you may have noticed an extra chapter has been added?
> 
> I decided to write an epilogue. I felt like we all needed just a little bit more.

Patrick is staring up at his ceiling the next morning as every second of the night before replays in his head on a cruel, unrelenting loop. He doesn’t know when he fell asleep, can’t recall at what moment his mind decided to give him enough reprieve for his body to desperately grasp onto sleep, but that kindness only lasted for a few short hours before he jolted back awake, surrounded by the cold darkness of his bedroom.

Everything happened so quickly. His head is struggling to find any kind of sense of not knowing where to begin and not knowing how to stop.

Is David dating Jake? Have they been dating all this time? But then why was Jake making a pass at Patrick? Was David jealous of him or of Jake?

Patrick grabs a pillow and presses it hard into his face.

How things turned so quickly is making him anxious, a deep buzzing from beneath his skin that makes him want to claw at it, tear into it so that he can make it stop.

He can’t stay here, he needs to just _move_ , do something.

He gets out of bed, shivering against the cold and throws on some joggers and a sweatshirt, pulling on his thicket pair of socks before heading downstairs to make some tea to put into his thermos.

He’s looking through the boxes of tea he has indecisively when he suddenly remembers the unmarked tin he has stashed away in the back of one of the cabinets.

He wasn’t planning on bringing it with him to Schitt’s Creek, but as he was packing up his things in his old apartment, he couldn’t leave it behind. It was the one tangible piece of proof he had of his time being married to David Rose.

He pulls out that tin now, opening it up and the scent of caramel and chocolate wafts up to his nose. He closes his eyes for a moment and lets the sweet aroma take over his senses, lets it distract himself for a moment before falling back into reality. He plucks out a tea bag and throws it into the thermos, pouring hot water from his kettle into it and rushes out of his house.

Usually his hike up to Rattlesnake Point is with measured and steady steps, but today Patrick is surging through it, feeling his body tensing up more and more as the early rays on sunshine begin to peak over the barren trees. By the time he’s reached the lookout point, he’s panting heavily, his legs tired and stiff and he slumps down onto the ground, resting his back on a tree.

It’s cold of course, the morning frost cold on his lips. He wishes it were colder though, wishes it hurt more so that the pain in his chest was less.

A distraction maybe, always a distraction.

Old instincts try to force their way back in, trying to crowd into his head, whispers of what he can do to get away from the heartache, from the pain. But he doesn’t let them rise up to the surface.

Because he doesn’t want to be like that anymore. He doesn’t want to ignore the weight on his shoulders until it forces him down to his knees, until running away seems like the only way to get away from it. He moved here to be better, to do better.

He has to unpack every emotion he’s had since last night, since moving down here really.

He feels lost now. He had a plan: move to Schitt’s Creek, buy a house, find David. He’s done all three.

_So, what now Patrick?_

He doesn’t know.

He lets his head thunk back against the rough bark behind him, taking in a deep breath of frigid air, welcoming the sting it brings to his lungs.

He reaches into his pack for the thermos, holding it in his hands, wondering if he should take a sip.

What will happen? Will he go back?

Does he want to go back?

“What would he do,” Patrick murmurs to himself, unscrewing the lid.

He takes a careful sip, the strong taste of caramel and chocolate flooding his senses, and he closes his eyes, waiting for the sharp pain in his head to start, to plunged into darkness before waking up somewhere else, anywhere else. 

But nothing happens.

Patrick slumps further against the tree, feeling tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, feeling lost and despondent and wanting to grieve what he’ll never have when he hears the sudden cry of a hawk above him.

He jolts up, looking upwards and sees the hawk circling above him. But he also sees the sun high in the sky, peaking through the green leaves of the trees that weren’t there just moments ago.

“What the fuck,” he mumbles to himself, looking around the forest and its greenery, Patrick now shrouded underneath its shade. He looks down at himself still bundled up in his winter gear, the ground beneath him a little softer, a little lusher.

He’s about to get up and investigate when he hears something shuffle from beside him and Patrick turns his head and takes in a sharp breath as he stares at himself sitting on the rock, looking outwards at the view below.

Or, he thinks it’s himself. Some version of himself. The other Patrick.

He’s hunched over, pulling at his fingers, his face warped with worry, as if being suffocated by a thousand different thoughts.

He looks like he’s trying to find the words to say something, something he doesn’t know yet, and Patrick knows that look all too well.

Patrick settles back against the tree, his eyes trained on his other self. Wherever he is, it’s obvious that this is just some vision, some kind of dream, another unexplainable force created by some sweet tea leaves.

It’s strange to think that they both exist together despite living their lives so separately, so differently.

He wonders what he’s seeing right now, what moment he’s peering into that has this Patrick looking so distraught and unsure. Did he have a fight with David? Is he contemplating leaving?

That thought strikes him, the thought of Patrick leaving David. He just - he can’t even _imagine_ , leaving him, can’t come up with any good reason to move on from David Rose.

“Don’t leave,” he says softly. “Stay, fix it, whatever it is.”

The other doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch at Patrick’s voice, doesn’t see him.

Patrick slumps back down into the tree and just watches him.

They sit there silently, both lost in their thoughts, conflicted by their emotions when suddenly the other Patrick’s face clears up and he looks up and says very softly to himself, “I like David.”

Patrick watches his face go soft and sure as he repeats louder this time, “I like David Rose.”

And just like that, all the tension in his body clears up, and he’s smiling and laughing into the crisp mountain air.

“I like David Rose,” he says again, shaking his head, a grin on his face. He stands up from the rock, dusts off his pants and walks closer to the ledge, Patrick watching him with rapt attention.

“I like David Rose and I’m going to ask him out,” he says out into the world.

He turns around and walks back to the rock, reaching for his pack that’s leaning against it, swinging it onto his shoulder and makes his way back down the trail, whistling to himself, reaching up at the branches above him to pluck at the leaves.

Patrick watches him until he’s out of sight, the faint noises of chirping birds and the wind blowing its breeze against the leaves keeping him company.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until a tear splashes against his hand, lurching Patrick out of his daze.

That’s him isn’t it? He just watched himself unravel his feelings for David didn’t he?

Not just some alternate version, some magical vision he’s conjured up in his head.

That was him.

Because he knows that look, that feeling of utter relief. That feeling of happiness in figuring out who he is.

Up until now he’s separated himself from the other world, the other Patrick. He spoke about his alternate self as if he were some stranger, someone he didn’t know anything about, wondering what he would do when he didn’t know the answer.

But he does know him. At least, he knows himself better now.

_“We thought something had changed,” his mom said. “Turns out you were just finally ready to be yourself.”_

They’re the same, in every world, in every universe. And he doesn’t need to wonder what the other would do because he is him and he already knows.

Patrick starts laughing, feeling everything in his gut getting lighter. He closes his eyes, basking in the warm air and when he opens them back up, the trees are once again barren and the skies are cloudy. But everything is brighter.

“I love David,” he says out loud. “I love David Rose.”

He’s going to head back down the mountain and he’s going to make another plan. One way or another, he’s going to make things right with David, make things better and he’s going to ask him out again, Jake or Shannon or anyone else be damned.

He’s going to live the life he wants, as bravely as he can.

Patrick stands up from the ground, dusts off his pants and walks back down the trail, whistling to himself, grabbing at the low hanging branches above him, more sure of himself than he’s ever been.

\\\\\

It’s Monday, which means the store is closed which means no David for the day. So Patrick sets off working on errands around the house to keep him occupied, help clear his mind. Because tomorrow he’s going to talk to David and make it clear that he is very much interested in him and that he isn’t going anywhere, especially on a tour of the town with Jake.

The furniture for the guest bedroom arrives and the majority of the day is spent building it. David is right, it isn’t the most attractive bed, but it’ll do for now. And next time he’ll be better prepared for a surprise visit from his parents.

He’s taking out the trash through the back door when his foot catches on a box by the door, Patrick looking down to find the box of string lights David was originally planning on hanging up that first day he moved in.

He throws the garbage into the bin and picks up the box, taking everything out and surveying his back porch, figuring out where he needs to drill in the hooks and the doing the math to calculate the length of lights he has to install. There are wooden posts already drilled into his deck, the remnants of an old trellis that he took down during renovations that he never got around the finishing but now act as perfect stakes for the lights.

After quick trip to his shed for a ladder and tools, Patrick finds himself hanging them up, cursing to himself because it is freezing outside. But he wants it done because David said it would look nice.

By the time he’s done, the sun is setting and he’s feeling sore from bending his body in weird angles.

But he’s satisfied by his handiwork, the lights stretching above the patio in even rows.

He puts everything away and clears the deck and plugs the lights into the outdoor outlet, the light shining warmly against the darkening sky. And once again, David Rose is right, they do look great outside.

He’s thinking about making himself a mug of hot chocolate when he hears someone clearing their throat behind him, Patrick whipping around to see David looking at him sheepishly.

“David,” Patrick breathes out with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I texted you an hour ago, but you didn’t respond and I got worried,” he says stepping further out into the deck. “And now I know why you were too busy to reply.”

“And you just let yourself into my house again,” Patrick teases and David points a defensive finger at him. “I knocked and rang the doorbell! And you don’t keep your front door locked which once again, _huge_ security issue.”

Patrick grins at David and shakes his head. “What are you doing here?” He asks again and watches David shift on his feet nervously.

“I um, I wanted to talk? About last night? It seems like there are some crossed wires I want to untangle,” he says not looking at Patrick.

“Yeah,” Patrick says softly. “I’d like that.”

Neither of them say anything, Patrick shoving his hands into his pockets and David still fidgeting in his spot.

“So um, Jake,” David says clearing his throat. “Jake is an old acquaintance from like way, _way_ back for an enthusiastically short period of time.”

“I gathered as much from the um, the kiss,” Patrick asks awkwardly and David’s face twists.

“That is literally just who Jake is. His mouth is like a homing device for other mouths which is why things became a little complicated during my brief encounter with him. Of course, Stevie also being in the picture didn’t help things.”

“Stevie?” Patrick asks with confusion and David kind of just waves his hand. “Yeah, Stevie and I were both dating Jake, but we weren’t like _all_ _together_ , but Jake wanted to be and it got messy, anyway,” David says quickly before taking a deep breath. “The point is, I’m very much single. Right now. I’m single right now and unattached so to speak,” he finishes, smushing his mouth to the side. “And um, I just wanted to let you know that.”

“Okay,” Patrick says softly, his lips slowly being pulled up into a smile.

“But I also know that it’s important to _explore_ other options, so I understand if you wanted to go exploring?” David says looking away.

“Exploring?” Patrick asks cocking his head to the side.

David nods his head quickly. “Yes, like walking around town with Jake. You only just got here to Schitt’s Creek. And although the options around here are _very_ limited, I uh, I would understand if you wanted to _explore_ those first.”

“Huh,” Patrick says to himself softly as he watches David fidget.

“I know me being here puts everything we have to risk,” David says softly. “And this is just not something I would ever normally do? I tend to just keep away from this sort of stuff. But, I um,” David says looking down. “I guess I woke up feeling a little brave this morning and wanted to tell you.” David smiles tentatively up at Patrick before looking away again.

“Tell me what?” Patrick asks and David bites his bottom lip.

“That I’ll wait, um for you,” he says softly, his cheeks turning red. “I’ll wait for you.”

If it were possible, David seems to try and make himself look smaller, contracting his long body into himself, as if he’s unable to fully cope with the fact that he’s just laid out his soul, completely bare in front of Patrick.

Patrick feels every bit of himself squeeze tightly, David’s words bouncing restlessly in his head, similar words echoed back at him from so long ago.

 _I would have waited though. For you_ , David Rose had once said to him under the warm lights of Rose Apothecary.

“But what if I just came to you instead?” Patrick asks. “What if _I_ don’t want to wait anymore?”

David snaps his head back towards him. “What?”

“David,” Patrick says gently, taking a small step towards him. “I don’t want to go exploring.”

David just blinks at him. “You don’t?”

“No,” Patrick says with a laugh. “Jake really was just dropping off the coffee table. And I don’t want him to show me around town.”

“Oh,” David says softly, smiling shyly.

“It’s a tiny town, I think I’ve already seen all of the sights,” Patrick says jokingly and David rolls his eyes at him playfully.

“Well then,” David murmurs.

Now they’re just kind of smiling at each other, stupid, dopey grins on their faces as the weight of this moment settles down around them. Patrick takes another step towards David, his hand itching to reach out and touch him, eager to bare his soul for him as well when David suddenly says, “Oh! I almost forgot to give you this,” he says reaching into his coat pocket and taking out a small, rectangular box. “Your Christmas present.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything, you’ve already done so much for me,” Patrick says with a laugh.

“It’s just a small little thing,” David says holding the box.

“If we’re exchanging gifts, then let me grab yours,” Patrick says walking in towards the house.

“You got me a present?” David asks with gentle surprise.

“It’s just a small little thing,” Patrick replies back with a smirk and rushes in to his office, reaching for a blue gift bag that’s been sitting at the base of his desk for weeks now.

When he makes his way back outside, David is standing in the center of the deck, underneath the lights that cast a warm glow all over him like a halo.

“Okay, so, you first,” David says handing Patrick the box. He unwraps it carefully, tearing off the edges and prying open the box to reveal business cards.

He pulls one out and it reads, _Patrick Brewer, Rose Apothecary, Co-founder & Co-owner,_ the stores address and phone number right underneath.

“I noticed you gave Patricia one of your old business cards a few weeks ago and thought you might want some that ties you to the store. Because it’s yours too,” David says pointing at them. “Even though I’m the creative visionary."

Patrick rubs his thumb across his name on the thick cardstock, his eyes glazing over the _Rose Apothecary._

“I um, I didn’t think I would get this far?” David says breaking Patrick out of his thoughts. “And I have to thank you for that. You helped me grow this into something real, but more so than that,” David says taking a deep breath. “You helped me realize that I could have done it on my own, if I wanted to.”

“David,” Patrick breathes out softly, but David cuts him off. “Not that I want to! I mean, I’m glad I’m not doing it on my own _now_. But, for the longest time I wondered if I would be good enough on my own? That’s one of the reasons why I didn’t do it the first time around,” David says playing with the rings on his fingers. “I didn’t trust myself to be on my own. But you, you showed me I could have done it, that I am good enough,” he says taking a deep breath. “But there’s no one else I would have rather done this with. So thank you, for trusting me, for giving all of this,” he says gesturing widely at his body. “A chance.”

“David Rose,” Patrick says shaking his head. “I should be thanking you.”

“Why?” David asks cocking his head to the side.

“You took a chance on me too,” Patrick says. “You didn’t know me, had no idea what I could do to help the business grow, but you still trusted me enough to be a part of your store-”

“Our!” David says throwing his hands up and eye Patrick warily. “ _Our_ store! You keep saying it’s my store, but it’s _our_ store! I made you those little business cards so that maybe you’ll get it in your head that you’re stuck with me!”

David snaps his mouth shut quickly after that, his eyes going wide. Patrick stares at him with fascination. “Stuck with you huh?”

“Let’s just, ignore that bit,” David says closing his eyes. “Pretend you weren’t listening.”

“David I’m always listening,” he says gently and David blushes and wiggles his body uncomfortably. “Were you under the impression that I would leave?” Patrick asks curiously and David only squeezes his eyes tighter.

“Not necessarily,” David replies. “But I just, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did,” he says softly. “Historically speaking, that’s usually the trend with me.”

“Huh,” Patrick says. “But if it’s okay if I didn’t right? Leave?”

“Well,” David says clearing his throat. “That would be ideal.”

“Noted,” Patrick says with a grin. “I’ll have it written in stone. I'm sure I can find the same engraver who did your mom's rose garden.”

“Okay that’s not necessary,” David replies back with some edge, but it’s cut by the grin that’s pulling at his lips that he’s desperately trying to keep down.

“David,” Patrick says gently. “I’m not going anywhere. There’s nothing in this world that can take me away from you.”

David folds his lips into his mouth because his smile is really teetering on running wild and loose.

David looks down blushing, his eyes catching the gift bag in Patrick’s hand. “So, I guess that’s mine?”

“Oh,” Patrick says looking down at it. “Yeah, um, yes,” he says, hesitant to give it to David. “You know it’s just, you know,” Patrick stammers through but David just smiles at him.

“Just a small little thing?” He asks with a grin and Patrick nods his head sheepishly, handing it over reluctantly.

“Really, it’s nothing,” Patrick says as David pulls out the black picture frame. He looks down at it, his eyes raking over the small gesture that seemed bigger to Patrick a few weeks ago.

“It’s just the receipt from our first sale at the store,” Patrick says unsurely.

David is quietly staring down at the frame, the corner of his lip twitching upwards.

“Um this is not nothing,” David says looking up at him. He looks straight at Patrick, like he never wants to look away. “So thank you.”

Patrick lets out a rough breath and smiles, feeling relieved, feeling happy.

Something settles between them, something warm and shy and Patrick feels every bit of his body prickling with anticipation.

“Patrick,” David says, his voice soft and warm. “I’m really glad you decided to invest in our business.”

And maybe it’s the way David’s smile is pushed into his cheek, how the lights above him shine on his perfectly coiffed hair. Or maybe it’s the way David looks down at Patrick’s lips before meeting his eyes again. Whatever it is, it’s enough for Patrick to take a step forward and press his lips gently onto David’s, letting the sigh of his breath rush through him in unrelenting waves.

Patrick thought he would think back to that distant moment, the first press of David’s lips on his, the ghost of that warmth always licking up the back of his neck whenever he stops to remember it. But he doesn’t, because he’s consumed by this moment instead, the heat of David’s mouth surging through him like lightning, like fire. All there is is this, David, his life, his choices that got him exactly where he needs to be.

He lets go of all the uncertainties, the doubts, the sadness and frustrations and just focuses on David, what he can have when he lets himself want it. Because what he wants goes beyond just the store, the house and David. What he wants is to know that everything he does is because he wants to do it, because he deserves to have it.

When they pull away, David has a dazed look on his face with a smile so beautiful Patrick has to swoop in to kiss him again, David giggling against his lips, kissing him back.

“I know I said that I’ve already seen all the sights Schitt’s Creek has to offer,” Patrick murmurs against his lips, David humming in between them. “But would you be interested in giving me a more in-depth tour?”

“Sure, as long as Roland’s house is kept out of the tour,” David replies and Patrick kisses him again. “I think I can agree to that.”

Before they kiss more, Patrick takes their presents and sets them carefully on the outdoor dining table, using his now free hands to wrap around David’s waist to pull him closer, David’s arms resting on Patrick’s shoulders.

“It really does look good out here,” David says to Patrick admiring the lights. “But I have to be honest, it’s a good thing you ended up hanging them up. This is very much outside my realm of possibilities.”

“I don’t know David, it kind of feels like anything is possible with you,” Patrick says with a grin and David crinkles his nose at him.

“Oof, what a line,” David says with a grin and pulls Patrick him in for another kiss.

He thinks about the David and Patrick of the alternate world, knows that this is the last time he’ll think of them because he has this to live for now and sends a silent thank you to them. He hopes they’re happy, wherever they are, and that they’re together and wrapped up in each other like he is now with David.

When they pull away to catch their breaths, Patrick begins to move them back and forth to a silent song only they can hear. He knows it’s cold out, can see the frost in his breath, but he can’t feel anything except for the strong press of David’s arms around his.

Patrick never thought he would find home. He’s lived in many places, his parent’s house, the tiny dorm room during college, the apartment he had with Rachel, the apartment he had without.

Places. Just places.

But this, Patrick thinks to himself as he sways with David in his arms on his back porch, bundled up in his winter coat, the large bulb string lights above them, is home.


	17. 6 Months Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone needs some visuals on what Patrick's house looks like, I recreated it on the sims and took pictures! Take a look here: https://maybewecandreamalittle.tumblr.com/post/635512167424196608/patricks-house-in-my-fic-i-walked-through-hell
> 
> I'm like SOOOOOOOO bad with descriptive writing and needed something to look at as I wrote so I made it to help me through (still think my descriptions weren't great but we're working on it lmao)
> 
> I can't express what it has meant to read everyone's comments and well wishes. Really, the response this got exceeded my expectations and I am so beyond grateful. 
> 
> I don't know when the next fic will come. Could be tomorrow, could be in a month, could be in the next hour because my mind is just always all over the place when it comes to these two. 
> 
> But whenever it may be, to know I share a space with so much talent and kindness will always be what I look forward to the most. 
> 
> Please enjoy this small glimpse into the future.

Patrick feels the ache in his back just as he begins to wake up, groaning softly into his pillow. It’s just his luck that the day before he’s set off to drive up to his parent’s for a visit that a shelf in the backroom collapses, forcing him to work well past closing to fix it. David tried to tell him that it could wait until they were back from their trip, just a short phone call to Ronnie, but Patrick Brewer as always is stubborn and insisted on fixing it right then and there. And now his back is paying for it.

“I told you to let Ronnie handle it,” David murmurs into his ear. Despite the aches and pains, a shiver runs down his throat as David’s finger trail up and down his back.

“Ronnie was mean to me last week,” Patrick grumbles petulantly and David chuckles, low and throaty and Patrick’s body begins to stand at attention.

“Then let me take care of you,” he murmurs and makes his way down beneath the covers.

His hands rake up and down Patrick’s sides, teasing him with his light touches until Patrick grows impatient and throws the blankets off of them and rips his shirt off above his head.

David hums and pulls Patrick’s pants down to his thighs. “If I weren’t so desperate to suck your cock, I would nag you about throwing your clothes on the floor again.”

David’s words light something up inside of Patrick, his erection straining painfully against his boxers. “David, please.”

David smiles up at him and leans in to trail kisses down Patrick’s stomach. His breath is hot on his skin, and when he hovers over Patrick’s cock, his boxers wet from his excitement, Patrick has to bite his lip hard to keep himself from coming, his nails digging into his palms.

“Someone’s excited,” David teases, hooking his thumbs into Patrick’s boxers and pulling them down slowly.

“David,” Patrick whines, his stomach clenching as the cool air hits his sensitive skin.

“Shhh,” David shushes in gently, wrapping his hand around him, Patrick jerking at his touch. “Let me take care of you,” and sinks his mouth down onto Patrick.

He’s on fire, unable to contain the guttural sounds coming out of his throat. He has to press down into the bed so that he doesn’t thrust up into David’s hot mouth.

David hums around him, pulling off and stroking him lazily. “All good up there?” David asks with a smug grin.

Patrick growls and grabs the back of David’s neck, pulling him in to kiss him. “Off,” Patrick says pawing at David’s shirt. “Take it off.”

David takes off his sleep shirt more gently than Patrick, but also lets it fall onto the floor. He reaches down to pull his pants off the rest of the way, desperate to press his naked body against David’s, but his foot get caught in his his pants causing him to wiggle around on the bed in a not so sexy manner on the bed, struggling to pull them off. David laughs from above him and Patrick looks up at him, his cheeks flushed brightly. But David looks down at him with so much love, his eyes crinkled with joy and Patrick will never grow tired of that, how it’s always like this, how it’s always fun.

Patrick feels his insides clench at the thought. He used to think you couldn’t have fun while having sex, like it was a chore. But David makes it fun. David makes it okay.

“Come here,” Patrick says grinning up at him, pulling David down onto him, licking into his mouth as David continues to laugh.

They finish undressing, pressing against each other, the laughter in their kisses turning into heated moans.

David strokes him gently, whispering into his ear about how much he loves him, how beautiful he is, how happy he makes him. And when he wraps his hand around them together, Patrick feels the tension uncoiling around him, wrapping them both up. He muffles his shouts into the skin of David’s neck when he takes him over the edge, his body buzzed and on fire, stroking David’s back as he joins him seconds after.

They lay in a tangled heap, trading soft kisses and gentle murmurs before things become too uncomfortable to bear, David hobbling into the ensuite bare ass naked as Patrick watches him from the bed with a smile on his face.

\\\\\

“David, it’s just a four hour drive to my parent’s house and I can guarantee you my mom will have three cakes ready for you when we get there,” Patrick says as he watches David lovingly place a box of carefully curated snacks in the back seat.

“I refuse to entertain the possibility of wanting something to eat and having nothing,” David replies. “It’s taken years for me to not accept that kind of disappointment in my life anymore. And these are for the drive there and the drive back on Monday.”

Patrick shakes his head fondly, David settling into the passenger seat beside him. “We’re 40 minutes behind and you still needed to grab the cheddar?”

“I won’t eat grapes without cheese,” David replies airily. “And it’s your fault we’re late. I’m not the one who insisted on an overly indulgent breakfast on the balcony.” The overly indulgent breakfast was fresh waffles with whipped cream and strawberries piled high made from the waffle machine gifted to him by David as a not so subtle indication of wanting Patrick to cook for him. Not that Patrick really minds. And after their breakfast was devoured, Patrick pulled David with him towards the railing, tucking his head into his neck, cups of coffee cradled in their hands, looking out into the vast fields behind the house as the sun continued to climb up into the sky.

He tries to enjoy mornings like that as much as he can now that the weather is warm enough, pulling David in close just as they’re about to start the day. David still has his apartment, but he’s at Patrick’s house more often than not, eating meals together before falling into bed, arms, legs and hearts tangled. On the weekends, Stevie will come over for family dinner, get drunk on too much wine and fall asleep on the couch with an episode of Property Brothers playing on the TV. He’ll never admit to it, but that’s the reason why David makes sure a blanket is always draped over the couch.

He has a key to the house, a copy Patrick made for him a week after they got together after David made a passing joke about having to make an effort to actually break into the house now that Patrick actually locks his door. The soft look of awe on his face when Patrick gave it to him still makes Patrick clench inside, desperate to do whatever he can to make him look like that always. He’s done a good job so far he thinks.

The house has always had a part of David built into the walls, but it deepened once they began dating. David’s monogrammed coffee mug sits in the cabinet, he has his own side of the sink in the master bath with all of his skin care products lined up neatly, and he’s taken up most of the closet in the bedroom, making sure to keep some room for Patrick’s blue button downs. Every now and then he’ll make a wistful remark about wanting a large walk in closet and Patrick will feign nonchalance, as if he hasn’t already began the budgeting to transform the third bedroom into just that.

His favorite days are coming home to David snuggled up on the couch after he’s been at the store on his own. David will always have dinner ready for him, something he throws together in the crockpot and pretends like he doesn’t like the compliments Patrick throws at him. But he always has a smile tucked into his cheek, blushing to himself as they wash the dishes together, Patrick reaching for him with sudsy hands for kisses.

David once made the comment of how serendipitous it was to have had such an active role in helping furnish the house before they became official because it made the transition into spending his time at Patrick’s easier, how the aesthetic appeal of the house aligned with his so effortlessly. Patrick hid his grin behind his tea mug and nodded along.

“Are you saying you no longer want waffles with a view?” Patrick asks as he backs out of his driveway.

“I’m saying it’s difficult for me to move with haste when I’m stuffed with breakfast foods,” David retorts, popping a grape and a piece of cheese into his mouth. “I had to skip out on my morning clay mask just to adhere to your schedule.”

Patrick chuckles and moves to take David’s hand in his, twining their fingers together. “Thank you for making such a grand sacrifice for me.”

“I mean compromising is important for the success of any relationship,” David says with a dramatic shimmy of the shoulders and Patrick looks at him fondly.

“I appreciate it,” Patrick says, taking David’s hand and kissing the back of it. “Ready to go?”

“Yes,” David says, intertwining their fingers together. “I’m ready.”

\\\\\

The drive to his parent’s house is different with David. A carefully curated playlist of 90s pop divas and his handsome boyfriend feeding him bites of cheese and grapes make the drive go by quickly, even with the stop to pick up some licorice when David realizes he forgot to pack some half way through their trip.

He pulls into his parent’s drive, David looking out the window with a gentle smile on his face.

“The house is blue,” David says with a smirk. “Very on brand for you. I’m expecting more of the same for your bedroom?”

“Just wait,” Patrick says shutting off the ignition. “It’s a very tasteful chartreuse. A bit of a changeup.”

“Mm, I deserve a treat for knowing what that means now,” David says unbuckling his seatbelt.

“How about a kiss,” Patrick says leaning forward and David places a finger on his mouth to stop him.

“I was thinking more along the lines of an extra slice of your mom’s carrot cake,” David replies and Patrick retaliates by nipping on his finger with his teeth.

“I think you know better by now to expect an entire cake set aside for you,” Patrick says opening his door and stepping out.

“I am your mom’s favorite,” David says from the other side. “She told me so.”

“I believe it,” Patrick says with a chuckle. “How about we head inside first to say hi and then unload all your luggage,” Patrick says walking around.

“I can agree to that, but fair warning, if your mom has something waiting for me to eat when we walk in, you might have to go solo,” David says plucking Patrick’s shirt in between his fingers when he’s in reach.

“That’s to be expected,” Patrick replies. “Don’t fill up too much though. Mom is going to have a big spread out for you for dinner since Rachel and her boyfriend are also coming over for games.”

David groans with delight and drapes his arms over Patrick’s shoulders and pulls him in close.

“Have I ever told you how sexy it is that you always make sure to have 6 people for games night?”

“You tell me every chance you get that 6 people is optimal for gameplay,” Patrick says wrapping his arms around David’s waist. “Although I am tempted to bring in a 7th person every time just to ruffle you up a bit.”

“But you don’t because you know what’s good for you,” David says patting his shoulders and untangling himself to walk up path to the front door. “Now, I wonder what your mom made for lunch.”

“She may have mentioned pasta,” Patrick says and goes to follow David before someone catches the corner of his eye. “Um, you go in, I’ll be right behind you.”

David shrugs at him and gives him a devastating smirk. “Don’t be mad if I eat all the garlic bread,” he throws over his shoulder with a glint in his eyes and continues his march to the porch, but before he gets too far away, Patrick grabs his wrist and pulls him back towards him, wrapping an arm around his waist and a hand around his neck, dragging David in for a kiss that tickles the back of his neck up to the tips of his ears.

It - he. He will never get tired of it, kissing David. He’ll never want to let him go if this is how he can feel always.

When they pull away, David has a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth, his cheek dimpled, and Patrick drops one more kiss on his lips.

“I love you,” he murmurs softly and David smiles at him, beautiful and shy and says, “I love you too.”

It’s still a little new for them, for David really because there hasn’t been a moment when he hasn’t loved David. But when David pressed those words into the warm skin of his neck last month after closing out for the day, Patrick pulling him to the back room to sway in his arms for just a moment, Patrick thinks there won’t be any world, any universe that won’t shake him under the power that is being loved by David Rose.

With one last smile, David turns around and goes up the steps of his childhood home, listening for his mother’s laugh before going to the car and opening up the trunk to retrieve a wooden gift basket filled with goodies from the store. David didn’t seem to notice the extra one that was packed in with the others for the rest of his family, Patrick carefully sneaking it in when he wasn’t looking.

The store is _thriving_ , as David says, and Patrick is happy to see an improvement in the numbers every month. After some planned canoodling and eager kisses, Patrick was able to convince his boyfriend to agree to some events at the store, namely the open mic night he’s been pushing David about. David’s horror when he discovered Patrick would be singing was delightful to see, his face twisting more with every song choice Patrick brought up to him leading up to the event.

But when David peppered soft kisses all over his face in the back room after singing the words of Tina Turner to him after that first performance, Patrick likes to think the night was a success and every open mic night thereafter as well.

Especially the one where he sang _Wonderwall._ David’s face that night is one of his fondest memories.

With the basket in hand, Patrick walks to the small yellow house at the end of the street.

Elodie is outside in her front lawn tending to her flowers when she senses him behind her, turning around and smiling when she sees him. “Hello, there.”

Patrick shoves a hand into his pocket and smiles back at her. “Hi.”

“Long time no see,” she says, standing up and dusting off her hands. “Visiting your folks?”

“Yeah, just here for the weekend with my partner,” Patrick says gesturing behind him. “I just wanted to drop by to say hi and to give you this,” he says handing her the basket.

“Partner?” She asks, quirking up an eyebrow with a smile and Patrick blushes.

“Yeah, my um, my business partner and my boyfriend, David,” Patrick says, rocking on his heels. “There are some cookies, teas and candles from our favorite vendors in there.”

Elodie gives him a teasing smile. “Tea you say?”

“Yes,” Patrick says with a laugh. “I can’t promise anything too special, but the lemon, ginger, lavender tea in there is great for when you’re feeling under the weather. I tried to source some that tasted like the caramel and chocolate one you gave me, but those notes are hard to find.”

“Caramel and chocolate?” She asks with a hum. “Interesting combination for tea. Can’t say I ever heard that one.”

“That was the one you gave me, in the tin,” Patrick says furrowing his eyebrows together.

“Mm, I know. It’s different for everyone,” Elodie says placing the basket by her feet. “Different scents, different tastes. Your body decides what it is that you need."

Patrick blinks at her before laughing, shaking his head with amusement. “Caramel macchiato, skim, two sweetners and a sprinkle of coco powder,” he murmurs to himself.

Elodie looks at him carefully with the same mysterious look that always left him feeling a bit too open, but it’s warm and he feels safe. Patrick shifts on his feet and shoves his other hand into his pocket and looks down to the ground.

“I um, uh,” Patrick says looking up. “I never properly thanked you for what you did for me.” He clears his throat awkwardly, feeling the emotion climbing up. “You helped me see the truth I was avoiding. When I think back to what it could have been last year,” Patrick says, his voice catching. “I - just, I…thank you,” he says.

Elodie smiles gently at him. “I know this is hard for you to believe, but you would have gotten there eventually,” she says. “I’m just an impatient old woman who likes to meddle,” she says with a wink and Patrick laughs.

“Well I’m glad you did,” he says with a grin. “And I think you’re right, I would have found him eventually,” he says as the smell of David’s morning coffee overtakes his senses, how his body seemed to know before he did. “I would have waited forever.”

“Forever,” Elodie says shaking her head with a smile. “Such a short amount of time, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Patrick says agreeing with her. “It goes by quickly.”

Elodie smiles at him and nods her head at him. “It looks good on you.”

“What does? Happiness?” Patrick asks with a smile.

“Actually I was going to say your sweater,” she says but her mouth turns into something teasing. “But that works too.”

Patrick grins at her and rubs the back of his neck. “I should get back. David said he’ll eat all the garlic bread.”

“He’s a sensible man,” Elodie says. “Are you going to tell him?”

Patrick ponders for a moment. “I’m not sure. Maybe, maybe not?”

“You’re just going to leave it at that?” she asks.

“Sometimes it’s better to accept things than to question it,” Patrick replies and Elodie laughs at him, sharp and sweet.

“Well, make a decision quickly,” Elodie says picking up her basket and walking towards her door. “You only have forever to make it.”

Patrick smiles and nods at her. “I’ll make sure to do it if I want to.”

Elodie shakes her head at him fondly one more time and goes into her house, shutting the door softly behind her.

Patrick grins at it, before tilting his head up at the sky and turning on his heel to walk back to his parent’s house, back to David.

The walk never felt freer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, I left it open ended for whether or not Patrick will ever tell David. Why? Because I honestly don't know, I couldn't really come up with an answer. I'll leave that up to you. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts on what Patrick would do if you have an idea! I'm always up to listen to what you have to say!
> 
> Once again, thank you dear friends. I hope to see you all soon. 
> 
> xoxo


End file.
